The Earl's Musician
by darkwing7174
Summary: Kidnapped victim or newest recruit, he isn't sure. Either way, Allen now belongs to the Millennium Earl—whether he likes it or not. Allen x Road. Crit, reviews, and flames welcome
1. Chapter 1

He ground his wrists together, noting the harsh squeal the metal cuffs made. The links of chain had a way of burning and freezing his skin at the same time, transforming soft and pale into chafed and inflamed. He had already tried to sever the chains with Innocence-reinforced claws, but the metal wasn't even scratched, which he supposed was due to the purple sheen that gleamed across the links. Magic, he thought.

Plans of escape were long forgotten, replaced by thoughts of _thirsty, hungry, _and _chains hurt_. It was a struggle to stay conscious, let alone coherent. His eyes had trouble locking on to a certain point with his vision constantly blurring and wavering, so it took him awhile to realize someone had entered his cell. He jerked when a voice cut through the deathly silence.

"Hello, exorcist."

Sharp and sweet and dangerous. Why was that voice so familiar? He shouldered his back against the wall, momentarily grateful for something stable behind him. He wanted so badly to look at his captor, to see who had imprisoned him, but he couldn't get his eyes to focus and settled on staring at the shaft of light coming from the open doorway.

"Why…" his voice rattled in his parched throat_. Why have you brought me here? Why have you imprisoned me? _His visitor cleared her throat with a delicate cough.

"Ever since the first Fourteenth betrayed the Earl for God, the Noah of Music has been disgraced and exiled from the ranks of the Noah Clan," the voice said. "But I guess Millennie thought you were different, deserved another chance, whatever."

Footsteps came toward him and polished boots stepped into his line of vision. A shadow fell over him and he screamed at his body, begging it to cooperate, but he seemed to be completely helpless and paralyzed. A kiss on his forehead, light but lasting, was like the chains that bit into his wrists, fire and ice.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Allen Walker." The boots retreated, and he saw the light from the door thinning until, with a thud, the cell door closed. He was aware of the phantom kiss on his forehead, still stinging. It felt like poison. Struggling with the chains, he tried to claw the itch, rip the skin off, anything just to get rid that horrible imprint of lips. It felt like it had bored into his mind.

He heard laughter from the hall.

With a sharp crack, his forehead exploded in paralyzing agony and his responding scream lasted only a second before he slumped, his eyes rolling back in his head.

As he fell unconscious, a small cross, like a star, materialized in the center of his forehead.

* * *

"Ugh…Oh God." Allen pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to smother the incessant pounding in his head. He was half-startled by the chains that bound his wrists, which clanked and clanged like Marley's ghost.

"Oh, He can't help you now."

Allen whipped around, sending the chains flying and skittering across the stone. Road laughed at him. She was lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands, kicking her legs back and forth. He narrowed his eyes but instantly regretted it as bursts of pain shot through his forehead.

"_You_," he spat, glaring through lank strands of hair. "WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE?" Road gazed at him with half-lidded eyes, looking completely unconcerned at his shouting.

"I didn't do shit, exorcist," she said. "Though I wouldn't have minded. Don't you remember who brought you here?"

His eyes widened_._

He had been in his room at the Dark Order, deep within the oblivion of sleep. He remembered having sickly dreams, though he couldn't recall what any of them were about. A tentative knock at his door had roused him, and he thought he heard Lenalee's soft voice, asking if she could come in. They'd needed to talk about something, he remembered, something important. Bleary eyed, he sat up in bed.

Then a gloved hand had reached through his wall, seized the back of his shirt, and yanked him backwards; his back slammed against the wall where he stuck like he was nailed to the stone. Another hand wrapped around his throat in a crushing grip, cutting off his breath. He felt hot breath on his neck and lips against his ear, and then, in a venomous whisper, "_Come with me, boy_." Then his body was pulled _through_ the wall and flung into the night, dropping the thousands of feet from his room in the Dark Order, his last glimpse of a manic grin before he passed out. Only one person had a power like that…

"Tyki," he whispered. That wasn't possible. He had exorcised the Noah of Pleasure for good with the activated Crown Clown. He _couldn't_ have his Noah powers. Road kicked her feet in affirmation.

"Yep!" Her lazy grin put him on edge, and he thought it was stupid since the whole chained up in a cell thing should have put him on edge already.

"Now lets be serious," she said, like he was the one sitting there chuckling and swinging his legs. "As much as I adore you being here, especially in the long-term, Jasdebi and Skinn are a bit pissed off about all of this."

Jasdebi? The Noah twins? Hadn't Krory taken care of them in the Arc? And he was sure Kanda said he killed the Noah, Skinn.

"Wait, did you say _long_-term?Ugh—why am I discussing this with you? WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?" He had the satisfaction of seeing her face awash in surprise at his booming accusations.

"Didn't I tell you last night? Millennie's adopting you, exorcist. You're a Noah Clansman now." 

_What?_

"I'm an exorcist! I'm not a Noah! I—"

Road held up a heart shaped mirror conjured out of nowhere, reflecting his face back at him. He looked in horror at his appearance.

Huge, panicked eyes stared back at him. Stark white hair, pale eyes, and a jagged scar running the length of his face. But that wasn't what made him so frightened.

In the middle of his forehead was the Mark of the Noah. It was small, nowhere near the size of the band of crosses on Road's forehead, but it was there. The pounding in his head increased, and he had an image of Road smacking the backs of his eyes. And then in his head, past the horrible ache, yes, _there_. Humming. A tiny song in his mind, like the one from the Arc.

"You are now," Road said, laughter like tinkling bells as his skin changed to the dark charcoal of a Noah for the first time.

* * *

The music was deafening. Every pitch, every cadence, every instrument and song rang in his head. He couldn't see anymore. He couldn't taste or feel or _breathe_. All his mind would register was the cacophonous blasting that resonated through his skull. He started to scream, then louder and louder because he couldn't hear it himself. It was horrible, terrible, unbearable, make it _stopstopstop_. He thrashed around wildly and nearly tore his shoulder out of his socket when the chains pulled tight around him.

"_Allen! Allen! SHUT UP!" _The voice was faint, but pierced through the endless discordance. Yes, please, make it stop. Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up._ His nose started to bleed, but it clotted instantly, the tissue regenerating at an inhuman pace.

"Allen! Shut the hell up!" It was louder now, or maybe the music was fainter. He felt someone shaking his shoulders and then a sharp slap to his cheek. He barely felt it, still screaming, now frothing at the mouth. Suddenly a weight pressed down on him. It wasn't substantial, but in his head, searing away the sounds of the music and crushing him down with a huge, authoritative aura.

_'SILENCE!'_ a voice boomed, much deeper and harsher than Road's voice. He gasped, his scream choked in his throat. _The First Noah_. The order was undeniable and he froze, shedding the charcoal skin for his normal pale and converted completely from his black form. All his senses flooded back to him and the mark on his forehead dulled to its normal black, ceasing its burning white glow.

Road was panting in front of him, hands on his shoulders and a drop of sweat running down her face. Her fingers were digging into his shoulders, and she was staring at him with burning eyes. He had never seen her look so tense, so enraged.

"I..." he stuttered. He no longer knew what to think. What the hell just happened to him?

Road turned away and gave a long, shuddering sigh, like she was trying to contain herself.

"You see?" she said, voice calm but a little hoarse. "You're a Noah, Allen Walker. _There's no going back_." She hissed the last part at him and, with a flick of her wrist, released the chains he now realized were constricted around him, fully ablaze with purple light.

The door slammed shut, leaving Allen in darkness. He could only stare in front of him where Road had been a second ago, shocked. His shoulder ached, his head ached, and his Innocence felt numb. What did she mean 'no going back'? He caught his reflection again in the mirror Road left lying on the floor.

A complete band of crosses stretched across his forehead now, inky black against his pale skin. What _was_ he? Half Noah, half exorcist? Didn't both sides exist to destroy one another? The mirror fell from his hands with a clatter, a crack going down the middle. What was he going to tell the Order?

_There's no going back._

That's right, even though he was an Innocence-adapter the Dark Order would never take him back now. He had been accused of heresy just on the suspicion that he could control the Arc, what would they say about him having the Mark of the Noah?

Allen couldn't feel his Innocence, although it was plainly still attached to him. Had it been damaged by the glowing chains, or Road? Either way, he couldn't shift it to its clawed form or its activated state. Maybe it was dead, rejecting his new Noah state. He clenched his fists, wishing it didn't have to be this way. But it was, he thought, eyes hardening with resolve. Yes, there was no going back.

He was a Clansman now.

* * *

Road dragged a frazzled hand through her hair as she stomped up the stairs leading up from the cell. She never would have imagined a newborn Noah could be so strong and defy her for so long. She'd needed to pull rank and use her position as the First to finally suppress Allen, and even then she had to use quite a bit of power. Of course, the Fourteenth was strong enough to flee the Noah Clan in the first place, so bringing him back under control was bound to be a struggle. Still...

She unbuttoned her coat and opened the side pocket, allowing the glittering green dust within to drift to the floor. She had acquired two Innocence fragments that morning and recalled the dread and delight she felt when they shuddered to dust under the pressure of Allen's musical scream. There was no telling if either of them was the Heart—she doubted they were anyway—since they were both destroyed at the same time. What a powerful gift. She did need to consider that every Noah's power was most potent when first released, but that didn't mean that Allen couldn't tap into that power eventually. Now she grasped what the Earl saw in him, regardless of his exorcist origins. He would be a key asset to the Earl's plans.

And maybe, she thought, smirking, even in a few of her own.

* * *

The next morning, Allen woke to keys jangling as his cell door was unlocked. The clockwork around his eye convulsed as he realized it was not Road, but two Level Three demons behind the door, one of them holding more cuffs and chains. He grimaced, having an image of demons coming in to sedate him like a rabid dog. They didn't say a word as they shuffled in and unwrapped the chains from his waist and legs, but their contempt was evident. One gripped his arms and forced them together as the other removed the burning-freezing chains from his wrists and placed another set of cuffs on him, which were attached to a leash-like chain. Were they afraid he was going to escape?

The demon holding his arms had a painfully hard grip on them, and a bone in his right forearm started to groan. He stifled the urge to release his Innocence, although, in his weakened state, it would have been hard to take both of them out anyway.

They walked up the stairs, one in front and one behind, into a dimly lit corridor. They reached the end of the hallway and a set of double-doors opened before them. He glanced around as they stepped into a huge room, clearly a ballroom, though Allen had never been in one. Candles flickered in the corners of the room, but it was otherwise dark like the corridor. The Level Three demons pushed him forward and flung his chain to the carpet.

"Next time," the demon growled, addressing the center of the room. "Get one of your zombies to play escort." It jerked its head toward a humanoid demon with charcoal skin and a star on its forehead. There were several of these demons flitting around a large table, all dressed in maid and servant clothes.

Allen couldn't see their souls.

He heard the demons stalk away as he strained his eyes towards the center of the room. As his vision slowly adjusted, he could make out a dining table, huge and heavily shadowed. Allen couldn't make out the faces of those who sat there, but he instinctively felt their presence. The Noah.

"Allen!" A petite shadow sat up and waved.

Was this his new family? His hands were still cuffed, but the chain lay untouched on the floor. He walked over to the table. Road came into view as he approached, her heart-shaped face illuminated like a jack-o-lantern in the candlelight. And there was Tyki, Skinn, Lulubell and Jasdebi, all seated around the table, their expressions still hidden in the shadows. He caught sight of the food a few seconds after he smelled it and almost started drooling. He ran the rest of the way to an empty seat, only decorum and his still-chained hands keeping him from digging into the feast.

He was just about to say, _Screw it_ and stick his face in his food when a familiar chuckle made his blood run cold. He raised his eyes to the head of the table slowly, as if he was hoping the person would disappear if he took long enough.

But there he was: the same rotund figure and perpetual sneer, glasses and top hat shrouding his demonic eyes. This man was neither human, nor demon, and both his hands quivered in disgust. He couldn't believe he was so careless. The weight of his betrayal hit him hard, and it twisted his gut to think of how unexpected it was. He shouldn't have thought it was so simple: just walk up and join the Noah Clan. No, he was joining forces with the very being he lived to destroy.

"Good evening, Allen Walker."

The Millennium Earl.

...

* * *

**A/N:** This takes place about a couple of months after the end of the anime (a.k.a red exorcist coats, Lenalee with short hair, Crystal-type Innocence, and post 'Noah's' Arc). If anyone who reads the manga has any corrections or info relevant to the story, it would be awesome if you could message me or whatever to give me some insight. This isn't a oneshort, so if I get enough reviews I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. Please critique!


	2. Chapter 2

Allen stood abruptly, knocking his chair backward and sending silverware clattering to the floor. His Innocence was twitching now, and even if he still couldn't feel it, the cross on the back of his hand glowed green. So his Innocence hadn't left him, he thought smugly. He was just about to activate it when a sharp tug on his chain sent him staggering. The cuffs hummed and buzzed for a moment before they delivered a jolt of electricity to his system that sent him to his knees, the aftershocks shooting up his arms and making him writhe.

"Mind your place, exorcist," a voice to his left growled, fisting the chain in his massive palm. Allen shot a glare at the Noah of Wrath, evidently unscathed from his encounter with Kanda.

"My, my," the Earl said. "I offer hospitality and I get attacked in return." The Earl slid his serpentine gaze over to Tyki. "I thought I sent you to convince Walker-san to join us, not drag him in by his ears." Tyki casually traced the rim of his wineglass.

"You said to retrieve the exorcist, _Hakushaku_, so that's what I did." He glanced at Allen and gave him a rather feral grin. Jasdero and Debitto shot out of their seats and Skinn pounded his fist on the table, the rattled chain sending Allen flying.

"You brought him here?" the twins shouted simultaneously, pointing accusing fingers at Tyki. Skinn huffed like a bull about to charge and knocked his plate off the table.

"We can't bring an exorcist here! What good would he do us? Just kill him!" Skinn roared. "I'll do it myself, because there's no way this _human_ could become a Noah."

Road spoke for the first time, yellow eyes glowering at him beneath thick eyelashes.

"It doesn't matter, Skinn," she said, staring at Allen. "It's an order from Millennie." Skinn grit his teeth and gripped the edge of the tablecloth. "Besides," she added. "He's already got the _stigmata_, he's one of us already. Don't you feel his presence?"

Jasdebi immediately launched into another string of outbursts, waving their arms and pointing their guns at everyone, even themselves. Even Lulubell voiced her opinion, and Allen found himself understanding the disapproving meows of the cat.

"Well who's going to train him?" Skinn snarled. "A Noah will go mad if he doesn't properly hone his skills!"

"Yes, we all know the result of that," Tyki quipped, curling his lip in distaste.

There was a short silence as they all glared at one another, daring someone to step up.

"I'll train him," Road said, and Debitto instantly protested, telling her it was dangerous and that he agreed with Skinn, they should just kill him. "Would you kill your own kin, then, Debitto?" He stilled, lips drawn down in a tight scowl.

"Then it's settled," the Millennium Earl said, rising from his seat. "Road will train Allen Walker-san in the ways of the Noah. The rest of you —" They all stood, chairs screeching on the floor, and Skinn relinquished his grip on Allen's chain. "—feel free to use my manufactured demons in your cause. Recover the Innocence with zeal!" And then they were gone.

"Wait!" Allen shot to his feet even though he knew all the Noah had left. "The Innocence—"

Road hopped onto his shoulders and the sudden weight almost made him collapse.

"They're gone, exorcist!" she sang, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "When you leave the House of the Earl, you leave to a whole different dimension."

But Allen had to stop them. It was his duty to protect and serve the Innocence. The Noah were just sent out to destroy it! This had been a stupid idea; he wasn't a _Noah_. He had to get back to the Dark Order. He didn't care if they killed him for being half Noah or whatever he was, he would not stand quiet while Innocence was being captured.

_I'm in the perfect position, _he thought. _I can stop them before they go out to recover the Innocence. _His Noah marks started to glow as he embraced his standing as the Fourteenth Noah. It was in his nature to betray the Clan, anyway. He focused on the throbbing in his head, searching for the endless tune that played in the back of his mind since he had become a Noah.

There!

In his mind's eye, his Noah powers looked like golden thread, the ancient music notes Mana had taught him glittering around it. He reached out, twining his fingers through the threads as gently as if he was caressing hair. Music coursed through him once again, although not with the same mind-numbing insanity as when he first changed. His skin bled into gray, then ash, and finally settled on a charcoal hue. Power swirled around him, and with his own Dark Matter, he could reject the magic in the chains that bound him.

With a popping noise, the bolts exploded and the cuffs flew off his hands. Now, to go after the rest of the Noah—

The same oppressive aura cut short his burst of power, smashing his resolve into the ground. Allen actually did fall, feeling like someone cut off his legs. Road stood over him imperiously with her boots planted on his back.

"Jeez, Allen," she whined, making a pouty face. "I was going to unlock your cuffs in a second. I just wanted a hug!" Her tone became serious, and a hollow growl echoed her words. "Listen, rookie," she ground out, the derisive nickname reminding him of Kanda when he first joined the Dark Order. "You follow _our_ orders now. Not exorcists, not your silly Order, and not your own drastic whims." She stepped off of him, not bothering to help him to his feet. "As long as you have _stigmata_, you obey only two people. The Millennium Earl, and the First Noah."

"Stigmata?"

"Holy marks," she said, pointing to the band of crosses on her forehead. "They identify you as a holder for the memories of Noah." Like the cross on his hand marked him as a holder for Innocence.

"I am the Noah of Dreams, the First Noah. Without including you or me, there are twelve other Noah in the family, each representing a different memory of Noah. For all intents and purposes, we are royalty, Allen Walker, direct descendants of God's own apostle. Your Dark Order is nothing but a supremacist cult in comparison."

A part of him, probably an inborn Noah instinct, told him that she was right—that the Noah Clansmen were superior. But listening to her denounce the Dark Order, Allen found that the same arguments could be used against both organizations. They were all hypocrites.

"Now," she said, bringing her hands together in a decisive clap. "Skinn was right, a Noah will pretty much go insane if they don't bring their Memories under control." A heart-shaped door materialized behind him, and Road stalked towards him like a predator going in for the kill. He retreated backwards until his back hit the door, and Road stepped in close, running a dark finger along the hollow of his cheek. His Noah was still being suppressed, supposedly by the First Noah's powers, and he knew that as soon as she released him he would be blasted with the tumultuous clamor of his Memory. He hated this situation, hated the Earl, and hated the Noah, but...

He swallowed, and Road grinned like she already knew he lost. He needed to get stronger. Road saw his compromise, his conclusion, and reached over his shoulder to open the door.

"Time to train," she purred. And Allen willingly stepped through the doorway into Road's world—or as willing as you can be with said Noah herding you inside—to learn from the enemy, and betray all his allies.

* * *

Debitto strode through the halls in a rare moment unaccompanied by Jasdero. He had bagged an Innocence fragment that morning and was feeling quite good with himself, his earlier anger simmering down. He neared the end of the hall, approaching a heart-shaped door, structured to mimic the ones Road could create, and knocked. Road often took awhile to answer the door of her cavernous room, so Debitto wasn't surprised when there was no immediate answer.

He raked a hand through his ink black hair, checking his appearance in the mirror on the opposite wall. He wore his fur-lined jacket off-the-shoulder, exposing his chest and shoulders, which he liked to think made him look sexy. He turned his face in the mirror to make sure there were no blood spatters and ruffled his hair again to make it look fashionably unkempt, like Road's. Still no answer.

"Road?" He knocked again. Was she pissed at him? "Road, I'm sorry I bitched at you earlier, I just don't trust that exorcist."

No answer.

Debitto stifled the urge to take out his gun (a desperation reflex), which was holstered at his hip. "Road," he said as evenly as possible, though maybe a little whine crept into his voice. "You know I just want you to be safe, and that kid looked like he was about to snap. I know you're the First Noah and everything and can take care of yourself, but—"

"Debitto?"

He spun around to face Jasdero scratching his golden locks in confusion. "Why are you here? Are we moving into Road's room?" Debitto pulled at his jaw in exasperation.

"No, you idiot. Do you know where Road is?" He rested his hand on his gun, eying his twin askance.

"She's off in her dimension, I think," he said, picking at the stitching in his mouth. "Training the exorcist. Why do you ask? Are you in trouble? 'Cause, you know, if you're in trouble, that ultimately means _I'm_ in trouble since we're basically the same person and all. And I think—"

"There's a reason I stitched your mouth up, Jasdero," Debitto growled. "Shut. Up."

Jasdero only twisted his head to the side and touched the stitches, as if he had forgotten they were there. Debitto marched back up the long hallway, beckoning his twin to follow. He didn't feel like talking to Road anyway, he thought, smoldering at the thought of her with that degraded Noah. Fine, let her train him. But one day, that runt exorcist was going to fuck up, and Debitto hoped he would be the one to cut the Fourteenth Noah from the Clan for good.

* * *

Allen wiped the sweat from his brow and panted, dragging in big gulpfuls of air like they were the last he would ever get.

Road's training was intense and reminiscent of his rehabilitation training with Fou at the Asian Branch. She had given him no instruction, just unleashing a barrage of dagger-like candles and disorienting illusions. All he had to do was survive. When Road was convinced he wouldn't die or become deranged, she released her hold on his Noah powers. The maelstrom of songs had nearly caused him to faint, but he held on just barely, in time to dodge a swift candle to his heart.

Over and over the attacks came, hardly a pause or hesitation in between. He was under strict instruction not to use his Innocence, and to instead harmonize with the bedlam in his head and learn to work with it and control it. When he stopped just staggering around her attacks and started strategically dodging and advancing towards her, she called a break. The music still pounded in his head, but he learned to tune out unnecessary notes and pitches, focusing only on the sounds relevant to what he was doing. The music raged in sync with his emotions, and if he had to name the particular rhythm, he would call it 'Adrenaline'.

"It's almost dinnertime," Road announced, looking at the huge grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It said it was almost 13 o'clock (apparently dinnertime), which Allen supposed was normal in this twisted dimension of hers.

"Do you think I'll be allowed to come?" He was pretty sure it had been over twenty-four hours since he last ate, and the lack of food was making him dizzy. He also hadn't used his Innocence in that time, which greatly attributed to his voracity, but he still needed nourishment—and lots of it.

"Sure, sure," she said, examining her nails. He had noticed, glumly, that Road had broken only the slightest sweat, giving her skin an ethereal dewy look. "As long as you be a good boy and not growl at Millennie, you'll be accepted readily enough. Though, you still have to sleep in your cell."

When the clock struck 13 o'clock, Road transported him back to the House of the Earl, the door opening into the dining room. All the Noah Clansmen were already seated, save Lulubell who drank a saucer of milk on the floor. They all ate like a normal family, arguing, discussing, and gossiping while they ate. The Earl wasn't there that night, and Allen dug his nails into his palm, knowing that wherever he was, he was causing death and pain.

He cast wary glances at his not-so-fellow Clansmen, namely Skinn, Jasdero, and Tyki, all of whom he had presumed dead or exorcised until now. Tyki was elegantly chewing through blood-red steak, listening to Road complaining about how she wanted candy for dinner and not blocks of dead cow. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and Allen tried to peek at his chest, searching for the Crown Clown crosses. He saw nothing, but maybe his shirt covered it up.

The music still surged through his head, sort of a resigned background sound, but it was making him dizzy and he wanted a break from his Noah powers. He centered himself, focusing on reverting back into his white form. Only he couldn't. He tried again and again, but he wouldn't revert back.

"Why...?" He looked at his hands, dark and unchanging. Tyki smirked knowingly, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin, then gestured to himself and Road.

"The older Noah," he said. "Like me, Road, and Lulubell, we can change willingly to and from our white and black forms. Out of courtesy to the _Hakushaku_, we usually stay in our black forms when we're in the House of the Earl."

"Wait, so I'm stuck like this until I've been a Noah for a certain number of years?" He had to deal with the clamor in his mind for _years_? He would go insane! Then again, he thought, grimacing, every Clansman here _did_ seem a little off-kilter.

"Well, you need to reach a certain degree of maturity in your Noah form, obtained by either time or power."

They finished dinner, all of them scattering off to some place or another, leaving the dishes and mess for the demon servants on duty. As one of them took his arm to lead him back to his cell, Tyki intercepted them, sending a quick telepathic command to the servant.

_Go now._

It was eerie to hear it in his head, intermingled with the slight buzzing that signified the presence of the other Noah. Tyki hooked an arm around his shoulder, saying in a much cheerier voice, "Come with me!" Allen reminded himself that this was the person who stole him from his home and nearly choked the life out of him doing so. They walked back to the cell, Tyki chattering amiably, but as they reached the door, he bent down and whispered in his ear.

"I haven't forgotten the exorcism stunt you pulled back in the Arc," he hissed. "The only reason we can have a conversation now is because when you stabilized the Arc, you brought _everyone_ back to life, not just your friends." So that was why he had his Noah powers. Tyki flashed a joker card from his coat pocket, tapping the corner menacingly. "Remember, you're still on my list."

The Joker that handed out assassination assignments was still moaning his name, _Allen Walker! Allen Walker!_ It sent shivers down his spine, but he met the Noah's gaze defiantly. With a tip of his hat, Tyki wished him a good night and nudged him into the cell, turning the key and locking him in darkness.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for the reviews! I've never gotten so many before. I'm also so, so sorry about the spacing in the last chapter. I tried to make it look less cramped, so let me know if there's improvement. Thank you again for all the reviews. And once again, please critique!


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next couple of days, Allen structured a careful routine for himself, mindful of the status quo of his black form. He spent every morning meditating, sometimes under the impatient watch of Road constantly urging him to train with her, focusing on sorting the different notes and cadences of his Memory. Usually he could only separate a few at a time, either intense headaches or a fed-up Road cutting short his progress. But he was moving along, slowly and surely getting a grip on his powers.

Late mornings all the way into the evening were spent in Road's dimension, training in attack patterns and how to properly use Dark Matter. Without the hindrance of a Parasitic-type, Allen found that he was significantly less hungry, needing only breakfast and dinner—albeit in copious amounts. He thinned down, all hard, lean muscle and he found himself moving faster than ever before.

The Noah Clansmen still regarded him warily, Skinn and Jasdebi lashing out occasionally, but Tyki quelled their anger one day, at least to a certain degree.

"If he's such a weak and pathetic human," he said. "Why are you idiots so afraid he'll slit your throats while you're asleep?" And then they left him well enough alone, more out of defending their pride than actual understanding.

Road became a constant companion, showing up every morning at his cell and hugging him still his bones creaked after every meal. The only time he was out of company of the Noah Clansman was when he was escorted back to his cell under the careful watch of a mindless demon at the end of the day.

He found himself trying to imagine life back at the Dark Order, but all of the memories seemed blurred and he couldn't seem to think of anything other than the night of his capture. His Innocence arm functioned well enough, but nowadays it didn't seem any more important than his right arm. His mind was what mattered now.

"On your toes, Allen Walker!"

Huge, spiked candles erupted from the ground and he leapt away easily, only to be caught in one of Road's illusions. Everywhere he looked he saw four different Roads, all of them circled around him like funhouse mirrors come to life. He whistled sharply, a high A note, and the vision shattered to reveal Road coming in fast.

In hand-to-hand combat, Allen was definitely more skilled, but Road was ruthless and fought differently than the exorcists he usually sparred against. She conjured different weapons out of the air, shrieking joyously every time she managed to land a hit and a line of blood appeared on his worn shirt. His skin regenerated instantly, forming into smooth and unmarred again, but it never deterred Road. Sometimes he wondered if she fought close-quartered just for the sadistic pleasure of watching him bleed.

She was fast, faster than him, but in her fights she always had the advantage, always the predator, and never developed the fighting instincts of someone truly in danger.

At the end of the day, they always called a draw. It wasn't that they were evenly matched, but they balanced each other out-—Road's strength in Dark Matter, and his in fighting technique and quick reflexes. But gradually Allen started to gain insight on how advantageous Dark Matter really was, using it more often during fights.

Soft, on-key notes usually helped him defend and guard, while sharps and flats were used on the offensive and when attacking. Humming or whistling the notes sparked immediate results, while singing the notes magnified its strength but tended to use more air and energy.

Road was also improving from the training, making each session just as life-threatening as the last.

"Too slow!" Road yowled, scraping his cheek with the edge of her nails. She retreated unexpectedly, and only then did Allen notice a horde of candles poised overhead. They struck from all angles like an inverted nail bomb and he rushed to defend himself.

He sang an ascending chord (C, D#, F) and most of the candles crumbled or lost their momentum. He dashed towards Road again, catching a falling candle midair, and aimed the sharp tip at her chest. She dodged and circled around him, irritatingly fast, until she became a circuitous blur.

He flipped the candle in his hands, trying to decide the best direction to strike, when he noticed a mist clouded the corner of his eye. This was an illusion!

Frantically he whistled another string of notes, but nothing changed. His hand was starting to burn, and with a start he realized the candle was melting, turning his hand into an amorphous blob of wax. He shook his hand to dislodge the wax and sang sharp, keening notes to shatter the illusion, but it had no effect. Road was still circling him, too fast to see clearly.

Everything else started to melt with the candle. The presents in the corners and the stuffed animals on the tables. The walls started to droop inward and everything felt hot. His hands were melting, his skin was melting, and the whole room was collapsing and burning. Road was still spinning. Spinning and spinning and spinning. No, this was an illusion. He had to reject it with Dark Matter. But the smoke choked him and his voice stuck in his throat. Her magic was too strong.

Spinning and spinning. No. Stop. _Make it stop_.

He was alone. He would die in this nightmare world. Everything was on fire now, burning and consuming. His careful control over his Memory slipped, and he was engulfed in the pandemonium of songs. A flat, G sharp, D, B, E, guitar, piano, trumpets, hymns, lullabies, waltzes, opera, duets, chorus, anthems, ballads, chants—

Road's face filled his vision, her wide, indigo—not yellow—eyes staring at his.

There was no fire, her room was intact, and he was still living, still breathing. There was quiet in his head. Silence. He stared questioningly at Road.

Her skin was unnaturally pale compared to her black form. She was staring intently, gazing into his eyes. Wait, no...staring at his forehead?

"I can't believe it," she whispered.

He blinked. What?

"You changed back," she said, gaping. "You reached maturity."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Allen, look!" She held up his hand.

It was pale.

* * *

"_What_?! He reached 100% synchronization with his Memory? How?" Tyki almost spat out his wine.

"Yes, it is rather extraordinary," the Earl said. Tyki wondered if the Earl was actually pleased or not, but his ever-present grin gave nothing away.

"How did he do it?" he asked again.

"Road said he changed back to his white form during one of her illusions. Maybe the stress triggered the maturity?" Tyki raised a hand to his lips.

"You realize what this means?" Tyki glanced at the Millennium Earl again. "Allen Walker is the first Noah to reach maturity through procurement of power, not age."

"He has become quite powerful, yes."

"Is he stronger than Road? Is this according to _plan?_ I understand that having one of your pawns gain more power is a good thing, but this is _Allen Walker._ Do you expect someone who hates you to follow your orders?" The Earl turned his head and his glasses lost its reflective sheen, allowing Tyki to see eyes cold and hard as steel.

"Will _you_ follow my orders, Tyki Mikk?" Tyki swallowed. "Allen Walker is a Noah Clansman, therefore he belongs to me. By my right, he owes his complete obedience. Do you understand?" Tyki twisted his lips into a sort of half grin, half grimace.

"Yes, _Hakushaku_, I suppose I do."

"Allen!" Road jumped onto his back for the fourth time that night, shrieking about how she was so proud of him and how awesome it was that he was in league with the older Noah and how—He tried to tune her out.

His reception as a matured Noah was varied, ranging from (understandably) shocked to envious and, in Debitto's case, thoroughly enraged. When Road had opened the door from her dimension back into the House of the Earl, everyone was already seated around the table, the Earl, as always, at its head.

"It seems you've achieved complete synchronization, Allen Walker." The Millennium Earl eyed him from head to toe, like he was staring down a cockroach that just wouldn't die. Allen narrowed his eyes and mumbled a terse 'Ah', like it was no big deal.

Truly, though, it was bliss to have complete silence in his head, even if it was only for a little while. It was certainly relaxing, but Allen couldn't help but notice a slight unease in his mind, like it was nagging and lecturing him for not garnering complete control. He shrugged it off. He had synchronized, hadn't he? He was obviously doing everything right.

The Earl whispered a few words to Tyki and then bid them all goodnight, dragging Lero away with the parting words, "_I feel some misery brewing. Time to create more beautiful demons!_"

After dinner Jasdebi cornered Road, moaning and complaining and, 'why didn't you train us?' 'where's _our _Noah training?' Skinn rolled his eyes, or at least Allen thought he did, it was hard to tell when he had no pupil to roll.

For once, Lulubell was not in her cat form, and her blond hair swished hypnotically as she sauntered over to Tyki. She bent towards him, as if to whisper, but really Allen could hear her just fine.

"Do you think he's ready for reconnaissance?" Tyki nodded gravely.

"That's what the Earl said. He's even ready to start harvesting."

"Is that so?" Ironically, Lulubell's dispassionate tone made Allen more worried than Tyki's urgent one. What was going on?

Tyki noticed his gaze and his eyes flared for a second, but then he just smiled and raised his fingers in a mock salute. Allen stared hard into Tyki's eyes, trying to read him. He didn't break his gaze until Road pinched his cheek, chiding him for not paying attention.

"Allen!" It was a childish whine, but somehow Road could pull it off, and he wasn't annoyed.

"_Hai, hai, gomenasai_," he swept his hair of the back of his neck, still sweaty from training. Road watched every movement and then beamed at him when he met her eyes.

"Eh? Allen can speak Japanese?" She hopped on her toes, and before Allen could stop her, she jumped on him again, hanging her arms around his neck. "Allen's the coolest!" A snort behind him made Allen turn his head, but he couldn't tell if it had been Jasdero, Debitto, or Skinn, and by the time he turned back to Road, Tyki and Lulubell were gone.

Allen swallowed, trying his best to pay attention to Road's endless digressions, but he couldn't suppress the shudder of unease that went through him.

What was the Earl planning?

...

* * *

**A/N:** I officially hate this chapter, and here goes, me formally apologizing for writing such a short and boring chapter: I'm sorry. But there's no way to get around it, events needed to be properly set up in order for the story to continue on the way I want it, so once again, sorry for this filler chapter of sorts.

Also, I will try my best to update regularly, but it was hard today since I made a little trip to the ER. No worries though, I wont go on long-term haiatus and abandon this story. Just don't expect daily updates. Probably every three days or so.

Thank you so much for your reviews and support, I really do get ecstatic every time I get one. I just don't usually reply to any of them (is that normal?) but anyway, thanks. Oh, and I believe _Hakushaku _means 'Earl' in Japanese, since _Sennen Hakushaku _means 'Millennium Earl'.

Please critique!


	4. Chapter 4

A week later Tyki captured four Innocence fragments.

It was almost unheard of, on level with defeating a Marshall. But Tyki had tracked a relatively new platoon of exorcists, none experienced, and had Tease devour them in their sleep. He flashed the Innocence fragments at dinner, holding them between his fingers like cigarettes for the Earl to see. The Earl hummed appraisingly, lifting his spectacles to gaze at the hated Innocence.

"Very good," he said, and then with a quick nod to Tyki, he crushed a fragment in his palm. Allen was out of his seat before the Earl was finished destroying it, fully in his black form and marching up to the Earl before the dust finished settling to the ground.

"Stop!" The Earl just chuckled at him, grabbing another fragment and watching it disintegrate between his fingers. Skinn wrestled him to the ground, and the contact with the Noah of Wrath made him feel a spark of raw hate. Jasdebi joined in, twisting his arms behind his back and trying to subdue his exorcist strength. Contact with them heightened the sense of bonds he had with the Innocence, and it hurt all the more to see the fragments destroyed one by one.

His mind was filled with dirges and grim hymns, and he remembered that he was a Noah, just like them, and stopped trying to use his exorcist strengths.

Calling out to the demons in the House, he roared an order—_Attack the Millennium Earl! _The force of his command was nearly in league with the First Noah herself, and the demons scrambled to obey. Just as he was completely covered by a cloud of demons, the Earl spoke a single order in his mind, the grin on his face just a bit wider: _Disappear_.

One by one, every demon summoned in the House of the Earl self-destructed, Allen watching in horror as all those souls lost any chance of salvation.

"No!" he pleaded, nails scrabbling against the floor.

"Shut up!" Skinn drove his elbow into Allen's spine. Road sat quietly, unsmiling and unmoving. Tyki just looked amused, brushing the sand-like debris from his gloves and giving the Earl a pointed look. The Earl nodded, flashed Road a conspiratory grin, and quirked his head towards Allen.

"_Hai, Hakushaku_," she intoned in careful Japanese. Allen thought her voice sounded dark and strangely much older when she spoke in the Earl's language. Maybe it was just because she seemed so serious. The Earl tipped his hat with the tip of Lero and exited out to the Arc.

Suddenly Debitto flipped him over, straddling him, and dealt a vicious punch to Allen's face. Blood exploded in the back of his throat and Debitto kept raining down blows. Allen's exorcist training kept him from getting hit anywhere critical but Debitto didn't seem to care, pummeling his arms and chest.

"You screwed up _big time_, rookie," he sneered. "Dumbass exorcist. You think you're tough shit since you gained maturity? You attacked the Millennium Earl! You are so_ fucked_. And you know what? I'm gonna—"

"Debitto." Road's voice was soft and carefully controlled. Debitto opened his mouth to protest, but dropped his hands went she sent him an illusion. Allen didn't know what she showed him, but Debitto's eyes went wide and he pressed his lips tightly together.

_Leave. _The First Noah's voice rang in every Clansman's head.

"Understood," Tyki said. The other Noah repeated the response, just a beat behind.

All at once they left the room, leaving Road and Allen alone. He narrowed his eyes at her, wiping a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. Was she going to lecture him? Yell at him? Beat him up? She only stared with hard, unblinking eyes, and Allen steadily became more and more uncomfortable.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, more as a challenge than out of fear. She knelt in front of him and rested her hands on his knees. Allen remembered when she first captured him in her dimension, how she mauled herself with his Innocence and how she regenerated immediately. But he also remembered what she looked like underneath her skin. Dark and twisted and ugly.

She leaned over his chest, and when their lips were just inches apart, she opened her jacket and pulled out an Innocence fragment. He didn't dare make a move to grab it, instead staring at the molten gold of her eyes. She dangled it in front of his face, right between his eyes.

"This, Allen Walker, is Innocence," she said, twirling it in her fingers. "It adapts to certain humans, marking them as exorcists. It is susceptible to Dark Matter, the Noah's magic, just as Dark Matter is susceptible to Innocence. It fuels your Dark Order, drives you to exorcise demons like our Noah instincts drive us to kill you exorcists. I _hate _Innocence." She pressed her thumb and forefinger together and crushed the fragment, the glowing green dust scattering over his chest.

She grabbed his collar, pulling him up to eye-level.

"You think you're on middle ground? That you can just be half Noah, half exorcist? _This is not a truce_. You are not free to skip over the line whenever you like, choose to be a Noah one day and an exorcist the next. I have no qualms destroying your Innocence right here and now." She seized his wrist with enough force to snap it. Allen didn't make a sound.

She leaned forward and touched her cheek against his, lips right above his ear. "You are a Noah. Not an exorcist, not a savior, not the Crowned Clown. You are the disgraced and diminished Fourteenth that has finally been beaten into submission. Your memories have already started to fade since your birth as a Noah, and one day you wont remember what your life was before you gained your _stigmata_." She pulled away abruptly, the swiftness of her retreat ruffling his hair.

She stalked out, giving him a final telepathic order that he found himself unable to defy.

_Go back to your cell._

* * *

She was right, he realized with sinking dread.

He had assumed his time in the House of the Earl was just high stress and overshadowed his memories of the Dark Order. But since he became a Noah...

He knew that the Dark Order was composed of exorcists and Finders, and all of them were sent to search and preserve Innocence fragments as well as locate Innocence adapters. He knew that he was the owner of the Point Breaker Innocence, Crown Clown and that he thrived on saving demons' souls. He just couldn't _remember_.

He no longer recalled the surge of power that came every time he released the Crown Clown or the ecstasy of laying a pitiful demon to rest. He couldn't form solid memories of his friends at the Order; his annoyance at Kanda, his friendship with Lavi, and his attachment and companionship with Lenalee. He couldn't even remember the night he was captured, other than knowing Tyki had taken him.

_Damn it!_ He dug his fingers into the rough stone of his cell. It was horribly cliché, having a dungeon in the basement, but Allen supposed that the Millennium Earl was a bit of a cliché himself. The whole House was one big fortress, like a medieval castle. Not that he could complain—after all, the Dark Order was like Rapunzel's tower on steroids.

He sighed, holding his head in his hands. He was almost surprised when his fingers found the ridge of the scar on his face. It had been practically invisible in his black form.

He let the back of his head crack against the wall behind him. He was even forgetting he had a freaking curse mark. _  
_

_Oh, Mana,_ he thought. _There's always been a clear path for me to take. Why is it now that everything is in darkness?_

* * *

Allen woke, as always, in his cold and slightly damp cell. _What a loving family_, he thought wryly. At least they didn't chain him up anymore. A knock at his door didn't quite manage to surprise him—the Noah had an uncanny ability of entering his cell right as he was waking. The timing was so impeccable it was scary. He could faintly hear voices through the door as he called, "Come in!"

"_Why the hell did you knock, idiot?_"

"_That's what you're supposed to do when you enter someone's room, asshat._"

"_He's in a _dungeon _for fuck's sake. Just open the door, Jasdero._"

With a startling crack, Jasdero's booted foot came through the door, and Allen winced at the harrying noise of wood ripping. Jasdero's head poked through the stellate tear in the door, antenna bobbing and eyes rolling.

"Let's go, student!" Jasdero and Debitto yelled in unison. "You may want to change into your black form." Allen blinked. Only Road had ever visited his room, without counting Tyki's one-time drop off. And if Allen ever expected another Noah to visit him, the last people/person he would imagine—especially after last night—would be the indignant Jasdebi. And did they say _student_?

Technically, according to the complex hierarchy of the Noah Clan, Allen was one step above the twins, at least power-wise. But they were older, and their Memory number (they were the Ninth Noah) was higher than his. He switched to his black form, slightly apprehensive, and was surprised by both the speed of his transformation and the intensity of the headache that came with it. It was a sharp pain, more so because it was unexpected.

Synchronization should have made his mind less volatile, and indeed the music was quieter—just a tiny sound accompanied by the buzzing of the Noah signature—but he would have thought the headaches would stop. Maybe he needed to meditate more.

Jasdebi led him through the maze of hallways in the House of the Earl, a path he hadn't taken before. Allen found himself noticing how mismatched the twins were. Debitto walked with his hips, like a surly model, hands buried in his jacket pockets, while Jasdero walked like a hunchback, as if the weight of his head (or his antenna) was too much. Completely different, yet they still matched each other stride for stride.

"Where are you taking me?" Neither of them responded, but he felt them smirking as surely as if they had spoken aloud. They loped along the tiles, each of them walking in their respective styles, headed towards a familiar transporter. It wasn't as familiar by sight, so much as familiar by instinct. The Arc portal. He remembered the hidden room, the Fourteenth's room, which he used to control the Arc just under a year ago.

"Why are we going into the Arc?" They waved their hands dismissively but answered anyway.

"We're going harvesting—" they said.

_Harvesting_. That's what Tyki was talking about last night.

"—and we're bringing you along. You learn fast don't you, mature Fourteenth Noah-san?" Allen ignored the dig, still perturbed by their synchronous answers.

As soon as they entered the Arc, Debitto rushed out, sprinting forward like a cat. Jasdebi accelerated too, holding out his arms and spluttering like he was an airplane. Matching stride for stride. Allen, momentarily shocked by their sudden haste, raced after them. If they thought they could outrun him by catching him by surprise, they were quickly disappointed.

His gait was long and energetic—it felt good to use his fighter's muscles after focusing so much energy on Dark Matter—and he quickly caught up. He could have passed them, but he didn't know his way around this Arc, and trailing behind them, they soon reached a white-washed door—evidently a portal to the outside world. The door opened, a roiling swirl of purple akin to the entrances to Road's dimension.

"Wait," Allen said, backing up. The last time he stepped through one of these doors, he almost fell into a bottomless pit. "What's harvesting?" Jasdebi just laughed and shoved him forward (actually, Jasdero kicked him), and he was flung through the door, smacking the ground much too far below. He groaned and sat up, opening his eyes to look at the world he was stolen from.

The first thing he noticed was the grass. His spat a few blades out of his mouth. All around him it was sunny, brighter than the artificial light of the Arc, doubly so compared to the perpetual darkness of the House of the Earl.

The second thing he noticed was a coat, folded up on the ground. It was sturdy—thick to protect against rain, and reinforced with armor sewn inside. Black embroidered in red, and a crest that glinted in the blinding sun Allen was now so unused to.

Jasdebi hit the ground behind him and he heard the sinister click of their guns being loaded.

"Jasdebi..." It was the first time he said their name. He was looking into the face of a man, frozen in the act of bending down to pick up the coat, just out of reach. "What's harvesting?" he asked again.

The man's face, at first shocked to see people seemingly fall out of the sky, had a look of horror etched into it that Allen was sure mirrored his own. The man mouthed the word, too scared to whisper it: _Noah_.

Allen stared back, eyes now full of anguish. This man had only the Beginner's crest, he probably hadn't even fully synchronized—no match for three Noah.

Jasdebi howled, a war-cry that spurred a deep instinct within him, urging him to fight, to kill, to take. _Harvesting._

Allen mouthed a word, as if in apology: _Exorcist_.

"EXORCIST!" Jasdebi cried, cocking their guns and shooting twin Materialized bullets. The battle was pathetically short, a one-hit kill, and the Innocence fragment bounced on the folded up coat, now blood-spattered and out of reach forever.

Debitto raised his booted foot and stomped down, shattering the fragment. He twisted his foot the way Tyki ground out cigarettes, smashing the green dust into bloodied coat.

Allen dug his hands into the grass. So this is what the Earl had planned for him—a life as a full-fledged Noah Clansman, complete with duties of exterminating exorcists and harvesting Innocence fragments. He should have expected no less.

_Harvesting. _

If only he had known.

Four hours and thirteen Arc doors later, they finally found another Innocence fragment.

The doors, Allen realized, only led to strategically placed openings in the world, and not to the ever-changing locations of Innocence. His relief was short-lived, however, because following the twins out of necessity for hours and listening to them complain about Innocence—or lack thereof—was a grueling task, and his headache wasn't getting any better. As much as it sucked to be a third wheel in this 'mission', he was at least glad that he wasn't forced to witness an exorcist slaying again.

Until door number thirteen.

They came out of nowhere, at least to the platoon of exorcists, like nightmares conjured from the darkness. Four exorcists and two Finders. Allen didn't know any of them, and in his ashen form, he didn't think they recognized him either.

Jasdebi called to the surrounding demons, and like insects they rose, a swarm of Level Ones. The Finders and the two younger exorcists panicked, spinning around frantically trying to see all the enemies at once. The more experienced exorcists had eyes only for the three Noah that stood before them.

They had heard reports of the twins—one blond, one black-haired—and stories of their manic slaying of exorcists around the world. The third Noah they didn't recognize. No one had said anything about a Clansman with white hair.

Jasdebi shot forward like bullets from their guns. Debitto loaded his gun with a jerk of his wrist and fired a water-type bullet that smashed into an exorcist with enough force to break bone. Jasdero flew through the air, and in an elaborate spin, dealt a savage kick to another exorcist's skull. Cries of, "Innocence, activate!" reverberated through the air and sent Allen spiraling into nostalgia.

His own Innocence pulsed, awakening from its long sleep. His eye activated and he couldn't help but see the souls within all the demons they had summoned. The once quiet street plunged into chaos, and only Allen stayed out of the battle. How could he fight? There was no way he could harm an exorcist, what he was—or used to be. But how could he betray what he was now?

His Innocence powers were Marshall-level, but that didn't work against exorcists. He bounced on his toes. Should he join the battle? Who would he fight, the exorcists or the Noah? A memory surfaced in his mind. Road facing him, eyes hard as diamonds and just as cold.

_You are a Noah. Not an exorcist, not a savior, not the Crowned Clown.  
_

"Quit drooling, rookie!" Debitto sneered, blocking an exorcist's daggers with the barrel of his gun. Jasdero told him to get his head out of his ass before an explosion sent him flying. Terror seized him. He had to choose. Either way he was betraying someone.

_You are a Noah.  
_

Jasdebi finally imposed their will on him, and though it wasn't as powerful as the First Noah's, it compelled him to join the fight. The Ninth Noah's voice was young and childish, overly bright like the voice of the Level Four. _Fight with us, Fourteenth._

He jumped from the edge of the street into the throng of bodies engaged in life-or-death battles.

An exorcist lunged at him, a senior member according to his crest, reached out as if to grab him, and called: "Innocence: ignite!" He barely dodged the plume of flames that erupted from the exorcist's bracelet. An Equipment-type.

He blocked all the exorcist's attacks, dodging and circling. He was distracted, what if someone recognized him? But the attacks were slow and world-weary, Allen expected the exorcist had already fought throughout most of the day. Compared to Road, dodging them was easy.

Allen could see rage building up behind the exorcist's eyes as he increased his speed, adding new fervor to his attacks. This exorcist had everything to lose and was driven by the promise of justice. Burns accumulated on Allen's arms when he was too slow, but his skin regenerated over the oozing black marks, forming back into a smooth sheet of gray. Explosions shook the earth; the demon bullets were hazardous to everyone.

The Finders captured as many as they could in a stasis spell. Their moans shook the Innocence-reinforced glass and their eyes rolled back in their head. Without realizing, Allen sang out to them, freeing them subconsciously. One of them shot a Finder, and his skin became riddled with the telltale black stars until he crumpled, dust and sand.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

His mind was at war with his body, and right now the Noah in him ran rampant. The exorcist rushed in past his guard and fire burst in his face. His skin healed, but not before the exorcist lunged again. And again, and again. Allen was hindered by his reluctance to actually fight, and it was costing him the battle. His Innocence was shaking now, twitching and convulsing, warning signs that Allen was in _dangerdangerdanger. _It took almost all of his willpower not to release his Innocence, and then he lost control over his Memory again.

Notes burst from his lips. The air rang with whistled notes and chords and the exorcist fighting him clapped his hands over his ears.

Demons swarmed to Allen, drawn by the music. Right before his eyes, they started evolving—changing from Level Ones to Level Twos. Was it because of him? The exorcist's Innocence shuddered and hissed, repulsed by the powers of the Noah of Music. He couldn't clamp his mouth shut, though, and to his horror he just sang louder and louder.

The pressure in his skull was unbearable now, without the redeeming cacophony of music. It seemed that ever since his maturity, his head was mostly silent, the music instead flowing out into the world until it was audible to everyone around.

"What are you?" The exorcist looked at him like he was the bile of the Earth. And, he realized, he really was. Black skin, white hair, one red eye—he was a monster.

_I don't want to do this!_ he wanted to scream. He never asked for this, he was never supposed to have the Memory of the Fourteenth Noah. He was an exorcist! With a final jerk, he lost control over his Innocence.

Black claws erupted from his finger tips. The Crown Clown, in all its white-glowing cynic glory, flowed down his back. Immediately the headache ceased, the song dying in his throat. Maybe he could do this. Turn against Jasdebi and escape back home.  
He activated the Crown Clown, pulling his left arm from his socket into a sword, and—

_No_.

A jolt of unfamiliarity hit him and he almost dropped the sword, so wrong in its essence and appearance. This was the Earl's sword, not the Crown Clown. It was some inversion of his Innocence, deep navy instead of white. The platoon of exorcists balked; they recognized the sword.

"A-are you the Millennium Earl?" Surely the description didn't match up, but the sword was like a wake-up call. They had been outnumbered, and now, far outclassed. Allen stood with his arm shaking, wanting to toss the godforsaken sword to the ground because it wasn't _his_, but he couldn't. It was getting harder to separate the Noah's will from his own.

A loud cackle met his ears, informing him that Jasdero killed his target. The other Finder lay dead on the ground. The senior exorcist he had been fighting stared at him, sense telling him to retreat, but duty urging him forward. Allen stood rooted to the ground.

The exorcist took a step backwards.

The sword lurched forward, dragging Allen behind like a puppet, and before he could stop it, it was embedded in the exorcist's belly up to the hilt. He wanted to take it all away, fling the sword away and erase time, heal him like Miranda's Timescape, but he found himself thrusting the sword in deeper. The exorcist gurgled, drooling blood. And then he died, still skewered to the inverted Crown Clown. He hadn't said anything, no last words or taunts or promises.

The body slid off the sword and hit the ground in a nauseating tumble, the limbs jangling and spraddled like all the bones had melted. Satisfied huffs came from Jasdero and Debitto, signals that they were done with their fights.

Half of the Level Ones had been wiped out. All of the Level Twos were still intact.

Was it really over? They had only captured one Innocence fragment—Debitto's catch—and two Finders lay dead next to the mutilated corpses of Allen and Debitto's kills. Only two exorcists survived, retreated somewhere, probably a Finder's hideout.

Allen felt like he was going to be sick. And then he was on his hands and knees, vomiting a stream of blood ("The Noah don't digest the way humans do," Road later told him) onto the ground, splattering the bodies on the trampled-down grass.

Neither Jasdero or Debitto laughed, only scratching their heads and scowling in disdain.

"Is that all you can do?" Debitto seemed more disappointed than malicious. "Sing pretty songs? Shit, I guess maturity ain't all that it's cracked up to be." Jasdero nodded erratically, energized from the high of carnage.

"I didn't want to fight," he wretched. He wasn't sure why he felt he needed to defend himself.

"You better get used to it!" Jasdero sang. Debitto smirked in agreement, finishing his twin's sentence.

"Because you're going to be doing this every day, for the rest of your life." Debitto tilted his face up and shadows raked down his cheeks, accentuating his dramatic makeup. "And when you're a Noah, that's a long-ass time."

...

* * *

**A/N: **Please review, _please_ critique. Really tired. Hope I haven't screwed up the story for you. I have to say, you guys are extremely insistent about an appearance with the Dark Order. But _calm down_. I haven't forgotten them, and they're coming soon. But Allen is supposed to forget about them (you readers were too, but I guess that didn't work) so they haven't been mentioned so far. Once again, thank you for your reviews and support.


	5. Chapter 5

The exorcist rushed through the field, grass whipping at his legs and urging him to go faster. He was panting, hyperventilating, wheezing—whichever it was he wasn't getting enough air, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't even entertain the idea of slowing down. Not until he was sure that _they_ wouldn't come after him.

He realized he should be ashamed of himself, running away like this. He couldn't even glorify it and call it a retreat. No, he was fleeing. He tried to block out images of Nagato, speared on the end of the Millennium Earl's sword like a piece of meat. It hadn't been his first glimpse of death—not even close. But it was his first encounter with the Noah Clansmen, and he knew now that all the stories were true. Ruthless, sadistic, and terrifyingly strong. He ran faster.

It was getting harder to move his legs, the muscles cramping. It felt like they were filling up with lead. A slight burning sensation ran down his back, and he knew without having to look that the wound across his shoulder was festering and oozing. He counted himself lucky. He knew that the black-haired Noah's intention had been to shoot off his arm, and only shoving his Innocenced dagger through the Noah's forearm at the last moment saved him.

Jason collapsed somewhere behind him, the frantic pants slowing and deepening. He didn't want to stop, not until he got to the Finder's base in the East. But Jason was still a new exorcist, just recruited five months ago. He eased his pace and turned, secretly glad for an excuse to rest. The Beginner exorcist lay in the grass, and he flinched when he saw the gash on Jason's forehead. If he didn't staunch the flow and put pressure on the wound, this kid would bleed out within minutes.

He ripped his coat off, folded it, and pressed it to the exorcist's forehead. A quick 360 degree lookaround and he knew that no one was following them. He realized Markus wasn't with them, and felt sick dread in his stomach. The man was probably dead. He returned his attention back to Jason.

Had to focus on the living now. Death was just an occupational hazard, one an exorcist learned to deal with early on.

Static crackled through the air, making him jump. He remembered, belatedly, that Nagato's golem was still with them, blaring white noise.

"—_your position. I repeat....port your position. Come in...Naga...report your..._" He seized the transmitter golem, twisting the dials and setting coordinates.

"This is Lucas, I repeat, this is Lucas. I'm in Dahlem, in Lower Saxony. Fifty-three point two degrees North, Ten point seven-five degrees East. We're four men down, I repeat, four men down. Two Finders, two exorcists. Jason and I, me, Lucas, we're injured bad. Please direct us to the nearest base." He waited, wishing, pleading the transmit got through. The golem crackled again.

"_We're sending you the coordinates. What happened? Who has died?_" He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Markus and Nagato, sir. And two Finders, sir, I don't recall their names. We were ambushed by Noah Clansman. Three of them." He could almost hear the surprise over the static, evident in the pause that ensued.

"_...Three Noah Clansman? Hold on....Captain Reever! There's an exorcist in Dahlem. Ran into three Noah._" More static. Then Reever's voice came through the golem, clear and authoritative.

"_Exorcist_—_Lucas is it? Please, describe the Noah you ran into._"

"They were all dark-skinned," he said. "With crosses across their foreheads and—" Reever cut him off.

"_Yes, yes, but did you recognize them? Did they say anything?_" He searched his mind, trying to muster up some description other than how utterly petrifying they were.

"There were three of them, Captain. Sorry, you knew that. The one I fought was dark-haired. Lots of makeup. He had a gun that could shoot without being reloaded. The other one was like him too, had the same gun. But he was blond. His mouth was closed up with stitches. Really gross, actually."

"_That would be Jasdebi, the twins,_" Reever murmured. "_And what about the third? Was it a woman or a man?_"

"A man, Captain. Though more like a kid. White hair. Scary voice. Had the Millennium Earl's sword. It was really weird. It started out with just his arm, but he like, pulled it out."

A long pause. "Captain Reever?"

"_There's no information on a Noah with white hair. Could you be mistaken? And you're sure it was a man?_"

"Yes. A boy, Captain. White hair and a scary scream. I still hear the ringing in my ears."

"_Very well. We'll do some research here. Thank you, Lucas...Supervisor! Look in the archives about all the Noah. See if any of them have white hair...Thanks again, Lucas. The nearest Finder base is at fifty-three point two degrees North, twelve degrees East. Check in with us when you get there._"

"Yes, Captain." The golem fell silent, flapping its wings mechanically. Jason was unconscious, but the bleeding had stopped. He gathered the exorcist in his arms, hoisting himself and the kid off the ground and ignoring the searing pain that shot up his shoulder.

He glanced around quickly, sweeping his gaze across the field around him, and ran. As fast as his legs would take him. He didn't stop until he saw Finders streaming out from the base in Ahrmühle, and collapsed, darkness rushing up to greet him.

* * *

—_Six weeks later_—

Allen whirled around, a blur of soft white and harsh metallic, to lock swords—or in his case, his arm—with the exorcist across from him. Another senior exorcist, Allen noted. They spun, retreated, and clashed again. The exorcist gripped the sword with two hands, pinpointing his full strength into the razorsharp blade. It grated along the interlocking plates of his Innocence arm, and he considered telling the man who he was, just to see what kind of reaction it would get.

The hilt of the sword glowed green and Allen's eyes flashed. The man was about to fully activate it. He wasn't feeling up to wasting time or energy, so he let his tainted Innocence run wild, black claws tearing through the fabric of his glove. He grabbed the Innocenced sword with his other hand to divert the attack, indifferent when the blade sliced through his charcoal flesh, and plunged his black claws into the exorcist.

He retracted them immediately; he wasn't about to get _another_ of his shirts stained with blood. With a strangled gasp, the man clad in black and red dropped, now a bit more red than black.

An itch ran along the back of his hairline, and recognizing the sudden danger he was in, he spun around to meet an exorcist's surprise attack. There wasn't enough time to block, the man was nearly on top of him, and he activated the inverted Crown Clown and swung it in an arc around him.

The Earl's Sword sliced through the nameless exorcist easily. Two halves of a body dropped on either side of him. Almost too easy, he thought grimly, re-sheathing his inverted Innocence. It was unnecessary, like using a scalpel to cut through butter.

He shifted his arm back to its deactivated state, now thoroughly coated in blood. He tried shaking the blood from the hard contours of his left arm, but it was too hot, too sticky. The dichotomized corpse abandoned its Equiment-type Innocence, and the fragment, small and glittering, rolled to his feet.

The other exorcist was incapacitated, slowly bleeding out from the deep punctures in his stomach.

"Are you going to kill him?" A luscious voice at his ear almost made him shiver. But Allen wasn't entranced by the Noah of Lust.

"No," he replied curtly. Lulubell pursed her lips.

"He's suffering more if he's alive," she said.

Allen turned sharply on his heel, pulling the glove over his bloody hand. He wasn't going to budge. With a shrug, Lulubell knelt next to the dying exorcist and, without reluctance or delay, broke his neck.

A part of Allen's shattered heart stirred, mourning the loss of two lives, but quickly turned detached once more. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the constant death toll. He tried not to kill if he didn't have to, but his Noah will was impulsive and unpredictable. If Allen was in danger, his body took over and he killed. Apathy was his only refuge. He killed with indifference and disregard, and harvested with loathing.

"Good job," Lulubell praised, surveying the damage around them. "You got two fragments today." Allen remained impassive as he re-opened the door to the Arc, leaving the fragments in the grass. He wanted to take a bath. It had become routine, these past weeks. Reconnaissance, harvesting, and exterminating in the mornings. Bathe, eat, sleep at night.

Lulubell gathered the fragments with a sigh, adding them to her own harvested fragment. It disgusted him, being a bystander in the destruction of Innocence, but at least Lulubell was professional about it. Jasdebi usually taunted and ridiculed him. He joined them almost every day for the morning harvest, the Earl not trusting him on his own (for good reason). Last time he was sent on a solo-mission, he left all the exorcists half-alive, Innocence intact. Since then, he was always accompanied by the Noah of Bonds, or occasionally Lulubell.

The Noah Clan assembled as usual in the dining room, seated according to Memory order. The odd-man out, Allen sat at the head of the table, opposite the Earl and also the farthest from. The Fourteenth's seat was rebellious in itself, seemingly a challenge of the Earl's authority.

"I assume your morning went well?" The Earl asked. The question was directed at Lulubell, but his gaze was set on Allen. He returned the glare, defiance thick in the air between them.

"Yes, he acquired two fragments this morning," Lulubell recited, like a teacher's pet.

"Is he still using his Innocence?" Lulubell nodded, pushing her sunglasses up the perfect bridge of her nose.

"His Innocence still appears inverted, but only in his Noah form. It seems to work against exorcists just fine. In fact he killed two today. He hesitates to use his Memory powers, and I suspect he buries them deep in his mind, only allowing them to rise when he gets particularly emotional." Lulubell remained enviously dispassionate. "But I can only assume. I don't fight with him often." Allen pushed back his chair abruptly. He'd had enough of this.

"I'll take my leave." Road shot him a warning look, but the Earl nodded his assent. He curled his lip. _As if he had asked permission_.

He bowed acquiescingly, adjusted his shirt-tie, and strode out of the room. Silence hung in the room. The Noah Clan had long since gotten used to Allen's heartless, slightly numb attitude, figuring he had been broken and tamed. But his show of audacity surprised and infuriated them all.

"Well, this is a problem," Tyki muttered. The Earl only laughed, a sort of hysteria that rumbled through his chest.

"Sometimes, I really, _really _wish I killed Allen Walker all those years ago."

* * *

Weeks passed and Allen still refused to destroy the Innocence he captured. Even under the crushing influence and will of the First Noah, he wouldn't do it. The Millennium Earl said it didn't matter, after all, the Innocence was still getting destroyed, who cared who did it? But as the weeks bled into months, the Earl gradually became more impatient, until finally, he was completely incensed.

Allen had stolen Innocence from three exorcists the previous day, but conveniently 'misplaced' them, all of them knowing he had left them near the exorcists. He only brought back one fragment, stolen off an exorcist killed by Skinn. When the Earl demanded he destroy it, Allen shook his head silently, two quick jerks to the side, like a stubborn child. It was the norm these days, and Tyki walked towards him per usual, preparing to destroy the fragments instead, when the Earl snapped.

It was the first time Allen saw the Earl stop smiling, gnashing his enormous teeth in a disconcerting snarl. It was gone in a second, twisting upward into a wild grin, but it was enough to distress Allen. He feared he really had gone too far and he remembered Road twisting his wrist, saying, _I have no qualms destroying your Innocence._

"You've become quite the snobbish one, Fourteenth Noah." There was a dangerous lilt to the Earl's voice, like he already had a punishment in mind.

Road hopped off her chair suddenly, and without warning, rammed the end of Lero into his skull.

"Let's go, Allen," she said cheerily. "I've gotten kinda sick of your high-and-mighty attitude, and Millennie wants you punished." His vision swam. He couldn't tell if she was sending him illusions or if he was still disoriented from her unexpected skull-bash. Cold steel was braceleted around his wrists, and he realized that he was being handcuffed. His power waned as Road force-transformed him and he shed his Noah skin for his vulnerable white form. Was she taking him back to his cell? He'd rather face eternal imprisonment than be forced to kill any more.

Only when he was flying through the air did he realize that Road had been carrying him someplace, now throwing him to the ground with surprising severity. His head cracked against the floor.

And then there were hands everywhere. Strapping him down and tangling him up in chains. Ripping his clothes off and leaving him bare. They were _demons_, he realized, his left eye activating. Wretched souls carrying out dirty work for Road. But what were they going to do to him?

He was sitting up now, on his knees with chains fastened around him, tethering him to the ground. His pale torso was bare, tattoos standing stark against the milk-white skin of his left shoulder. Road licked her lips.

Oh no...

He eyed the lash in her hands, an honest-to-god whip. He really had crossed the line. The Earl wanted only obedient dogs in his army. And now Road was going to torture him.

A quick snap of her wrist and lashes appeared on his chest, dark red lines welling blood. So he _could _bleed in his white form.

She whipped his back, his chest, and his arms, sometimes solemnly, other times with sadistic glee. Occasionally she rammed the head of the whip into his spine and bruises were quick to form. Through all of it, though, Allen didn't make a sound, didn't even move other than tightening his lips or furrowing his brows. Road just hit harder, faster, only on flesh unprotected by fat or muscle.

An hour passed, then another. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out by now. But emotion had long since left Allen Walker's body, gone with his faith and his morals. He could deal with physical pain.

"Are you gonna destroy the Innocence now?" Road scowled, cracking the whip viciously against his chest, right over his heart. He only twitched. He only realized later how stupid that had been, his noncompliance igniting an almost inhuman fury in her.

She switched to fire.

She brought the blazing end of her candles to the skin of his legs and held it there until it started to smoke. She didn't stop until his flesh was completely charred, even when he dropped his callous guise and screamed, and when the skin finally became numb and dead, she moved to a different area. The pain was excruciating, dancing along his nerves.

The agony never dulled, each time it was fresh and exquisite and Allen screamed in delirious pain_._ His pupils shrunk to pinpoints. Even his senses were set on fire; everything was too bright, too loud, too potent, it _hurts. _The air filled with the pungent and acrid smell of flesh burning. He was aware of the Millennium Earl watching, like some sick voyeur, waiting for him to break.

"_You're almost there, Allen,_" Road's voice just barely cut through the haze in his mind. Almost there? Was he dying?

Another flame on his leg. Needling poison.

It felt like all his vessels and cells had befallen some maddening disease that left them writhing and shrieking. Burning was like those now-shrieking vessels tearing themselves apart, trying to be rid of the agony. And she wasn't stopping.

It might have gone on like that for another hour. Another day, another week. Maybe she had stopped right then, he had no idea. It didn't really matter—no one was coming for him, no one was going to save him. It occurred to him only then how much he wished someone out there was looking for him. But he was trapped, hopelessly and inescapably lost in the House of the Earl.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, his chains had been wrenched from the floor, freeing him. And in the palm of his had, and scattered along the floor, was the unmistakable dust of an Innocence fragment.

* * *

Instead of Jasdebi waiting by the Arc door, Tyki was there, smoking a cigarette with all the finesse of a drug addict, long drag after long drag after long drag. His head jerked up when he saw Allen walking towards him and he flicked the butt to the floor and ground it out with the heel of his boot. He raised a brow, scrutinizing him from head to toe, then said in a voice that belied his frantic chain smoking:

"Well! You look a lot better than I would've thought after five hours of torture from Road." He lit up another smoke. "Damn," he mumbled, cigarette dangling from his lips. "I'll have to tell her she's getting rusty. You ready to go?"

Outwardly, Allen didn't look much different than he did before. But Road's torture had been harsher than he realized. He had changed into his black form as soon as he woke, expecting the wounds to regenerate. Instead, they healed just as any human's would—the wounds were already starting to scar.

Since his clothes covered everything, he guessed Tyki had deduced the extent of his injuries from his bloodshot eyes and mangled lips bitten in pain. In truth, he looked awful underneath his new shirt and Victorian breeches.

Straight, ridged lines covered his back and chest, the largest and deepest over his ribs, above his heart, and across his spine. They were the pale kind, not red and puffy like his curse mark. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for his legs.

Angry, dark splotches riddled his calves and thighs, bright red in his white form, and a deep mauve in his black form. Road informed him they would scar and laughed at him, saying he looked like he was in camouflage.

"Ready to go where?" Something was off about Tyki. His eyes were too wide and he was still chain smoking.

"Exorcists are on the move," Tyki said. "We don't know where or why, but the Earl put us on Reconnaissance duty 'cause of it. There may be a battle coming up." A battle? He scrunched his brows together. They were going to fight exorcists—enough of them to call it a battle?

"How big is this battle?" Tyki's eyes darted to his, and now he realized what had made him seem so antsy. His pupils were fully dilated and his mouth twisted into a cynic grin.

Bloodlust. Tyki was in the mood to kill.

"Depending on where they are and how many there are..." He took a long drag of his cigarette, casting Allen a wolfish grin. "There may be a war."

...

* * *

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the incredibly slow update. Massive writer's block. I wrote like twelve pages of crap. But here it is finally! It isn't written the way I had originally planned it, and I'm not sure I like it or not. _Please_ review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

"A war," he repeated dumbly. For goodness' sake, he stopped harvesting for one day and now there was a war brewing. Tyki nodded his head mindlessly, and kept nodding as if he was agreeing with everything around him.

They entered the Arc, and he felt the pulse of the Noah presence all around him. The buzz of Jasdebi and the tiny shocks of Skinn crackled in the air. Tyki and Lulubell let off a more graceful hum, like the purring of engines. He could even feel Road's aura within the recesses of the Arc, and the whimsical essence tinged his sight with a dream-like haze and pitched all voices to sound like dark, whispered lullabies.

"Why is everyone out harvesting?" It was a rare event to have all the Noah Clansmen using the Arc portals at once, probably why Road was here—to ensure its stabilization.

"Not harvesting," Tyki corrected. "Yesterday, we all went out to harvest, and we couldn't find anyone. Not a single exorcist. I must have gone through two-hundred different doors. Everyone else searched, too. And in the entire world, not one exorcist surfaced."

Allen had to admit it was strange, but why was the immediate response _war_?

"Use your head, Allen Walker," Tyki said. "All the exorcists didn't just pop out of existence. Although that would be preferred. They're gathering, boy. Organizing their forces." He was so agitated and animated that he bit his cigarette clean in half. "They're preparing for something, assembling all their fighters to march en masse...to what, for what?" He yanked another cigarette out of his pack—his fourth one since Allen saw him. He was becoming more and more uneasy, both because of the implication of his words and because he had never seen suave and glib Tyki so flustered.

"That's what we have to find out, boy. This is top priority reconnaissance, orders from the Earl. Everyone's on the clock now, including tortured rebels," he said, giving Allen a pointed look. He decided to ignore that, since attention to his wounds made them sting more.

"But how can you all assume that the Dark Order is getting ready for war just because you haven't seen them?" Tyki didn't answer, instead exhaling a cloud of noxious smoke into the air. He coughed, retching. He had always hated the smell of smoke, but after yesterday he may very well have a pathological fear of anything fire.

"Can you not?" He cut through the tendrils of smoke with his hand. Tyki just smoked faster, taking such a long drag that Allen thought the entire thing might burn off. "God, you smoke just like..." He stopped. Just like who? His...something. A teacher, a friend, someone...with red hair? His mind scurried to supply him the answer. He knew that cigarettes were a pet peeve of his, and he knew that he had suffered their asphyxiating torment for years, but who?

"Master!" he blurted. Tyki looked at him like he was crazy.

"Well, if it's what you prefer, don't let me stop you, boy. Not the first time I've had someone call me that." It took Allen a moment to understand what he meant, but by the time he was shaking his head and shouting erratic denials, Tyki was already through an Arc door, one Allen knew to be a portal to Viseu, in Portugal.

They burst from the doorway into the crowded streets of the city, moving too fast for any mundane eye. Tyki seemed to relax visibly, either because he could finally channel his anxiety into physical exertion or because he was just happy to be in his homeland. Allen himself missed the cobblestone streets of London where the skies were reassuringly stormy. The air there had always been cool and wet, with a metallic tang that promised rain.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Tyki looked skywards and gave a long-suffering sigh.

Allen well knew that they were looking for any sign of exorcists, anywhere, and that if they so much as spotted Dark Order lint they were to report it to the Earl, but he didn't understand why it was so bad that the Dark Order just decided to have a town meeting one day.

It was simple tactics, Tyki said. Over the months the Noah Clan had significantly diminished the exorcists' fighting force, picking them off one by one. If they all grouped together, twelve hundred exorcists could certainly stand a chance against thirteen—fourteen, Tyki amended—Noah Clansman.

"But why would the Earl care, even if they _were_ preparing for war? They don't know where we are either." Allen was accustomed to being completely blind to the Earl's plans, and having it spelled out for him still didn't reassure him. He instinctively assumed the Earl had some hidden agenda.

"If the Dark Order increases the size of exorcist platoons sent out to collect Innocence, it makes harvesting that much harder. We would lose more fragments to the Order." He cut his gaze across his shoulders to give Allen a serious look. "This whole time, the Dark Order and the Millennium Earl have been in a constant tug-of-war. We destroy Innocence, they lose power. They recover Innocence, we lose power. If we manage to destroy all the Innocence in the world, we win. If they manage to piece together their grand Innocence cube or whatever they call it, we lose."

But it couldn't be that simple, Allen thought. It at least explained why the Earl was so adamant about destroying Innocence: it wasn't just a power-play, he wanted to destroy the Heart, a one-hit kill.

"Okay, so let's say we destroy all the Innocence and kill off the Dark Order," he said. He was starting to scare himself. How had he become so heartless? "What then? What is the Earl planning, after his greatest enemy is dead and gone?"

Tyki just smirked. "I don't know, boy. What _Hakushaku _is planning after this is a secret that he wouldn't indulge a lowly Noah like myself in. Road might know," he added.

That shut him up. Any mention of Road brought the agonizing pain back to his wounds, along with, unexpectedly, a sense of betrayal. Not that, he consoled himself, he had actually _trusted_ her. But for all she acted like she liked him, he couldn't believe her atrocious torture was done solely out of duty. She seemed to like torturing him pretty damn much. How did all of that fit in with her schoolgirl-crush persona she had whenever she was around him?

Allen looked towards the ground at the blur of color racing under his feet. Running didn't seem to hinder him at all anymore, in fact, nothing was physically strenuous while he slowly adapted to his black form. He was strong. Strong enough to have killed ten exorcists in his short (in comparison to the rest of the Clan's) time at the House of the Earl. But how would he fare in a war? Could he even survive the Dark Order's entire fighting force, let alone inflict damage?

If all the Branches combined their exorcists into one demon-slaying army, then the Noah Clan were severely outnumbered. Of course, he thought bitterly, it was almost impossible to harm a Noah, and you risked both your life and your Innocence in any attempt to do so. Along with demons, the Noah Clan might be able to match the Dark Order in fighting strength.

"Oh good, my niece decided to follow us," Tyki drawled, both sarcastic and indulgent. Tyki had a niece? A figure drew up beside them, and Allen suppressed a gasp of shock, the familiar face and essence of Road making him double-take.

"Yo, Tyki," she called. "Millennie wants me to talk with Dad, any passing words?"

"You know very well I don't give a fuck about Cyril," he said, voice light and amiable. Road just laughed, like she already expected this reaction. She slid her gaze over to Allen and, unexpectedly, his heart started to ache. Or more accurately, the festering scar over his chest started to ache. His obvious pain must have shown on his face, because Road asked him, "Does your head hurt again?"

Of course she wouldn't expect _her_ torture to be causing him pain. He looked away, childishly giving her the cold-shoulder. She only laughed, like his rejection was somehow funny, and turned towards Tyki again.

"It's confirmed, by the way," she said. "Lulubell says the Dark Order tower is crawling with exorcists, and she hasn't seen a single one leave." Tyki flashed Allen a superior grin.

"Millennie says to keep searching for anything that might be important, but it's set in stone: we're gonna be fighting the half-asses in two days."

"But _why_ are we going to war?" Allen cut in. "Why does the Earl care if they're all assembled together? They can't be after us..."

"Because for the first time in dated history, there's a chance that every Innocence fragment in the world will be centered in one place." She was smiling, but her eyes were positively murderous. "If they truly have gathered every Innocence adapter in one place, there's a high percent chance that the Heart can be destroyed."

And that was it. They didn't care why the exorcists were gathering. They were after the Heart, the one objective the Earl made no effort to keep secret. To the Noah Clan, this was all just an opportunity for a mass harvest. He would be expected to kill and destroy, and if he failed to comply, Road could do things to him far worse than killing him. He had scars to prove it.

But in the back of his mind, he realized that _this_ was his chance. The Earl was letting him, _ordering_ him to go to the Dark Order. Okay, so it was to kill his friends and comrades, but this was his greatest chance of Dark Order had to have been looking for him, and when they realized he had been taken prisoner by the Millennium Earl, he would only have to switch sides. The Clansmen wouldn't be able to subdue him with twelve hundred exorcists attacking from every direction. There was a spark of hope deep within his mind, which Road, the Noah, and the Millennium Earl had failed to snuff out.

"So we're going to war," he repeated, trying not to sound too excited. _Hoping_ he didn't sound too excited.

* * *

Two shadows arched along the wall, borne from the light of a dimmed glow torch. They murmured to each other in gruff whispers, united by anticipation and, though neither of them would ever admit it, fear. War was no stranger to either of them, though. The taller one, who spoke in clipped phrases and harsh grunts, had come from a war-torn country before joining the Dark Order, and the other had seen enough battles to last him fifty lifetimes.

They, like all the other exorcists gathered in the myriad hallways of the Dark Order, were preparing for war—surely not a daunting task, given the obvious advantage in their numbers. But the two figures, huddled close for secrecy and comfort, had other worries as well.

They knew what the recent reports meant, even if no one spelled it out for them. A new Noah had joined the Clan, one with white hair and the Millennium Earl's sword. He also had a scary left hand with long, stake-like claws, suspiciously similar to the parasitic-type Innocence of the AWOL and recently declared deceased Allen Walker.

"Do you really think it's him?" The taller man didn't bother answering. They both knew who it was. "Maybe he was taken against his will...maybe—"

"How is she taking it?" He quickly derailed his comrade's train of thought, instead focusing on a higher priority, at least in his friend's eyes.

"Lenalee is..." His friend's uncovered eye swiveled instinctively towards a hallway in the tower where the female exorcist lay bed-ridden, a familiar scene these days. No one had taken Allen's disappearance quite as hard as Lenalee had, and the formal announcement of his death left her, more or less, comatose.

"She wants to fight, doesn't she?" He didn't make it sound like a question.

His eye-patched platoon member had willingly stepped into the caretaker role for Lenalee, and anyone who wanted to know her current condition knowingly went to him instead of the Dark Order nurses.

"She wants to see for herself...whether or not the rumors are true. And I think she wants revenge." Rumors had run rampant in the figurative underworld: the Noah family was complete, a new member had surfaced, Allen Walker was abducted by the Noah Clan, there was a new Noah that could slash you to bits before you recognized the telltale white hair, ad infinitem.

The Dark Boots' adapter had chosen to believe the likely, but wildly unpopular, rumor that the Noah Clan had killed Allen Walker. This theory was mostly unaccepted and dismissed because it still didn't explain the appearance of the newly born and recruited Fourteenth Noah.

"If she wants to fight, she's going to fight. Not even you can stop her," he said. His comrade's shadow shrunk as he hunched angrily, in defeat.

"I know, I know!" His voice was hoarse from whispering for so long (neither of them trusted all these foreign exorcists). "I'm just worried because she's been sick and weak for so long. Goddammit, she's already had to deal with that kid dying once. But you're right. She wants to fight. She wants that peace of mind, and hell, so do I." He finally slumped, crouching low to the floor and running his hands through his red hair. Kanda didn't say anything, instead running the calloused pad of his thumb along the hilt of his sword.

Their shadows became more pronounced as the sun set and the glow torch's light became solitary. They were to wait until dawn, along with all the exorcists summoned up in the halls of the Dark Order.

When Komui gave the order, the gates would open and they would charge out into the fields, sky, and ocean where the Noah Clan would undoubtedly meet them. His platoon member rested his chin on a crossed forearm and said with the utmost contempt and loathing,

"I hate wars. If there's anything that stays constant in history, it's war. Never thought I'd be in one, but damn if I don't get the answers I'm looking for."

Kanda closed his eyes and nodded, three steady bobs of his head, and uncharacteristically replied,

"I know, Lavi. Me too."

...

* * *

**A/N:** As you may have noticed, I've dramatically increased the number of exorcists from fifteen (post-anime, thanks Nea Marika!) to around twelve hundred. Of course, time has passed, a little under a year, but I'm pretending there's a hella lot more exorcists in the world, and thus more Innocence. Sorry for the long wait, thanks for the reviews (who _is_ Timothy, by the way?). and thanks for reading.

Reviews are always appreciated. (Hint, hint)


	7. Chapter 7

War. He didn't even know what to picture. Dead bodies? Tons of blood?

Many exorcists often had military experience under their belts, or at least some history of competitive combat, but Allen was an anomaly in that sense. He was also ten years younger than the average exorcist, but justifying his unique situation wasn't setting his mind at ease.

He had had training of course, both from the Dark Order and The House of the Earl. His fighting experience had increased tenfold each time he trained with a new, radical coach—Cross, Fou, Road. But experience-wise, he really didn't have much.

Sure, he had saved countless numbers of demons, and slain a handful of exorcists, but that was really only organized massacre. War was an entirely different creature.

These thoughts plagued him all throughout the night (or day, the House of the Earl was mostly underground, so he never knew exactly what time of day it was).

He was settled in, what he liked to think of as _his_ little corner of the cell. A cell couldn't never really be considered his room, but certain aspects had become familiar.

Soft moss grew in the far left corner, which served as a bed, although he had nothing to keep him warm. There were large, tumbled stones near the door to the cell, that for some reason were warmer than the rest of the bare room. When he would meditate, he always rested his back against the rough wall and pretended that the sun was shining on the other side, and he would only have to walk through the door to drink in the glorious daylight.

But he never meditated anymore. His head only hurt in his black form, and even then it was only a dull ache. He couldn't remember the last time he heard the music pounding in his skull.

He twisted around on his makeshift moss-bed, pulling the thin fabric of his shirt taut against his muscled, but trembling, frame. He needed sleep, if he was going to fight. If he was going to pull of this grand escape and turn the tables on the Clan.

Worst case scenario: Road figuring out his plan before she was distracted by exorcists, and imposed her will on him. He would need to fight against the Dark Order, if only for a little while, before launching his counterattack. And who would he attack? Certainly not a high memory number, who held more influence over him. Probably Skinn, the Twelfth Noah. Would the other Noah come to his rescue, though? Would protecting the Twelfth become a higher priority than murderous exorcists?

Sleep, he told himself. Sleep, forget. You need your rest. _Shhh_...his mind whispered. A blanket of calm flowed over him, and his body filled with warmth, heated from the inside.

_Shhh..._

It was so nice. For once his body didn't ache, it was in the perfect position, heavy and warm. He didn't want to move. This was the most relaxed he'd been since the night of his capture. Or so he supposed. The memory of that night was a bit blurry..a bit...

Thoughts were flushed out of his head. He was sleepy. Comfy. Warm. So warm. So soft, the fingers trailing across his cheek and neck and spine. Relaxing. Happy. The lovely warmth nestled at his side. He wanted to curl himself into it, but he was too fixated on staying still. Yes, stay still. Warmth over his mouth. Soft and wet and heated.

Wonderful. Paradise. Don't stop. Don't move. Wait, don't move.

But he _wanted_ to move, return the embrace of the blissfully warm figure at his side, whose lips were like candy and—

His eyes soared open and his body flipped over like it was carried by a wave.

"_Road!_"

His voice echoed, painfully loud in the room. His empty room...

He breathed in shallow gasps, straining his eyes at every corner and shadow of the cell, searching for the person he just _knew_ was there. She had to have been. It was so real. She had been at his side. Laying, caressing, _kissing. _

Right? But his cell was empty, no matter how many times he darted his eyes around the room, sweeping over and over the same spots and shadows. Empty.

Just a daydream, a hallucination. An illusion.

Road could control illusions. He'd had no idea she could send them indirectly, out of contact, but that's definitely what happened. He flopped back on to the bed of moss, damper and colder than he remembered.

It had only been a trance. He needed to sleep now.

But the war. There was a war in the morning...

He didn't sleep.

* * *

The door swung open, dust billowing from the wood despite its now frequent use, to reveal Road inspecting her nails, cell keys twirling around a decidedly pale finger. Allen already knew who it was, though; he'd felt her presence the second she let her guard down. He regarded her warily, shielding his mind the best he could.

"Come on, Fourteenth Noah-san," she drawled. "It's go time."

Even with the heightened intensity in the air, the Noah Clan was still disturbingly calm. They were all at the Arc door, waiting for them -or Road, really, she was the only one besides the Earl who could control it. And besides the Fourteenth, but he suspected they didn't know about the secret piano room.

Tyki wasn't there yet, though they'd all heard Road's telepathic summons, or in Allen's case, her in-person summon. Skinn had his bulging arms crossed defiantly over his chest, and Lulubell, who was once again in her human form, towered imperiously on the stiletto heel of her boots. Jasdero was practically vibrating with energy, while Debitto remained nonchalant, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked at his sides. Only the nervous—or excited—twitches of his fingers over the hilt of his gun betrayed his otherwise bored demeanor.

When Tyki finally showed up, hair slicked back and gloved hands filled with Tease instead of cigarettes, they were ready to go. Whatever the Dark Order had been planning when they gathered all their exorcists, it was going to be interrupted by the bloodthirsty Noah Clansmen, that much was certain.

Yep, just going out for awhile to have a nice, casual war. No biggie. Allen was sweating through his gloves, but it seemed too revealing to take them off, as if his secret plans would be discovered if the Noah saw the pale skin of his white-form's hands.

One by one, they filtered through the Arc, stepping out into a courtyard of white-washed buildings and artificial sky. Road immediately conjured a heart-shaped checkered door, in lieu of the thousands of doors in the Arc, and gestured for everyone to enter. The transfer of dimensions was, as always, disorienting, but this time Allen relished in the confusing whirl—stalling time.

All too soon, they appeared on the other side, stepping onto a massive plateau that resembled an island in the sky. Behind them were jagged cliffs that, just a bit beyond, ended in a canyon with a terrifyingly long drop to the darkness and ocean below. But in front of them was a huge expanse. Just fields and fields of wheat and grass and weeds.

And in the center of the plateau, rising from the ground like a sacred monument, was the Dark Order tower: Main Headquarters. It glinted and gleamed in the harsh sunlight, but Allen was only momentarily distracted by the sight of his long-ago home, because the air suddenly filled with the intense pulse of killing intent.

The Noah Clan rolled onto the balls of their feet, anticipatory grins already lighting their faces. Demons rose from the canyon below like monsters from the darkness, summoned by the Noah demands and the siren call of one thousand two hundred Innocence fragments. They were a force to be reckoned with, sure, but Allen could barely suppress the gulp of fear and shock as he assessed the hundreds and hundreds of exorcists that littered the fields and sky. Surely there were more than twelve hundred.

_They're even flying_, he thought. Any exorcist with the Innocence type that allowed them was already up in the air, staring down at the enemy ominously, like hummingbirds stalled.

Millions, there had to be millions. And they were all staring at them, weapons at the ready.

"Destroy the Heart," Road said casually. Sharp and sweet and dangerous- her voice was all too familiar. Could he really betray her?

It was her only order, because right afterwards, she leaped into the air and mounted Lero like a witch on a broomstick. Jasdebi twined their fingers together and rushed into the fields, closely followed by Skinn. Demons of every Level, even Four, rocketed forward in the sky, and the grasses twisted madly in the wind of their advance. A deathly cloud of Tease swarmed upwards, and both Lulubell and Tyki circled the fields.

No warnings, no signals, they simply began. Finders and exorcists picked their targets and chose their battles, there was one for everyone. Flesh crumpled and fell to dust when it was infected by the demon bullets. Blood fell like rain from the sky, coming from the battles up above. In his cursed eye's vision, he could see a constant rotation of souls; every time a demon was exorcised, another one was summoned. The air pulsed with so many activated Innocences, he felt deaf.

It was true, they were all there. The Asian Branch, the American Branch, the African Branch, and all of the Main Headquarters' exorcists. Were there really only over a thousand?

He knew he had to fight, first the exorcists then the Noah, but no one was coming after him. Truth be told, he was pretty damn scared, and if no one was attacking, why join in? He scanned the army, telling himself he would 'attack' a low-level, foreign exorcist, but subconsciously searching for a familiar face.

All the other Noah had changed to their black forms already, prime targets for the senior exorcists and the Marshalls. But he was still in his white-form, maybe no one would recognize him, at least for a member of the Clan. He hoped they would know him as Allen Walker. He dodged a barrage of arrows sent from an exorcist in the sky. They stuck from the ground like porcupine quills in erratic lines. He hadn't been the archer's target. Road was whizzing through the air, giggling as an exorcist tried to shoot her down.

The arrows near him made an odd sputtering sound, and he unleashed his Crown Clown and took to the sky, just before the detonators on the arrows went off and mounds of earth exploded into the air. Okay, time to start fighting. It was getting too dangerous just standing around. The flowing cloak of the Crown Clown served as wings, the wind current catching it. He had a bird's-eye-view of all the damage, damage that had been created in just a few minutes. So this was war? He was more afraid of going insane than getting killed.

_Focus_, he thought. _Find an easy target. Pretend to fight, then when someone recognizes you, attack Skinn. _He searched the sky. There were almost as many fighters in the air as there were on the ground below, and everyone was already engaged in some battle or another.

Level Twos crowded around senior exorcists and Level Ones pelted the ground below with their bullets until an exorcist snuffed them out. Level Threes evened out battles, attacking exorcists and lower-level demons alike. The handful of Level Fours tore through the sky, and only Marshalls or Marshall-level exorcists with Crystal-type dared approach them.

Bodies fell from the sky in either bloodied corpses or disintegrated dust. Would he even be able to find an opponent? It seemed idiotic, seeing as there were hundreds of targets. He looked for anyone hovering, just like him, anyone who was still would stand out.

_There!_ Someone was floating in the sky, unopposed and unopposing. He streaked forward, activating the claws of his Innocence._ Just a little scratch. Innocence won't hurt them_.

While in his white form, his Innocence was harmless compared to the Dark Matter version. It would only deal minor flesh wounds. He darted towards his target, the one person in the scape that seemed to be searching for someone as well. Their back was to him, and he worried about catching an opponent off-guard, but the exorcist turned, as if sensing they were under attack.

Weird. The exorcist wasn't holding any weapons. He held his hand in front of his face, making sure the exorcist knew he was armed and prepared to attack. It was a _woman_ exorcist, he realized. She looked like she had just seen a ghost, eyes wide and a hand at her throat.

"Fight me!" he called. _Fight me so I can trick the Noah. Fight me so I can come home._ The female exorcist only stared, and he wondered if she could see him at all. She hovered in glowing, Innocenced boots, cropped hair tossed wildly in the high-altitude winds. She was so high up, it took forever to reach her. She really must have been looking for something.

He drew his arm back, readying his strike. She was still higher up, maybe twenty-five yards away, but he could hear her clearly as if her heartbroken whisper was right at his ear.

"Allen?"

* * *

Humans, though half-assed and utterly incompetent, had one redeeming factor, and one that Road enjoyed endlessly. Blood.

She wasn't morbid or anything (Okay, maybe she was a little), but nothing compared to the jolt of blood flowing through your veins and the steady burn that flushed your skin, feelings that were lost when she became a Noah Clansman. She was a wielder of death and destruction, not to mention a bit sadistic by nature, and she longed to feel the results of the violence and gore. Because how else do you know if an attack was successful if there isn't any blood? The Noah do not bleed. The demons do not bleed.

But humans, humans could bleed and die and scream. They were so _alive_ when they were dying. Curious beings.

Road remembered the first time she killed, how the blood ran from the stake-end of a candy colored candle and pooled in her palm. It was surprisingly hot, and it slid across her hands and arms as fluid as rubbing alcohol. It was then she discovered her joy of the kill, the pleasure of torture. Tyki often reminded her that _he_ was the Noah of Pleasure, and she would accuse him of not reaping the benefits of death. '_And the taste of blood?'_ she told him. '_Unforgettable.'_

But that was her black side. Her white side much preferred the taste of candy and sweets, though both halves shared a fondness for torture. Both halves also found immense joy in torturing a certain white-haired captive. Road would lick her lips just at the sound of his name. _Allen Walker_. His name tasted of the most glorious candy, and his blood the richest of dark chocolates.

She slashed at an exorcist with an impossibly long sword, savoring the blood already slicked over its 'imaginary' blade. She didn't have Manifestation powers like Jasdero and Debitto, but she could conjure objects through different dimensions, and she had a wide array of unnatural and distorted weapons stored in the gift boxes of her world.

Where _was_ her Allen anyway? She could feel the tenor of his thoughts, but it was dim, muffled. He hadn't changed to his black form yet? Or was he blocking his mind? A mental cry distracted her, one that signaled a Noah was in danger. She guided Lero low to the ground, weaving through exorcist and Finders and demons on foot.

The cry of danger came from Jasdebi, or actually Jasdero. They hadn't merged as one yet. The twins were battling four exorcists each, who seemed to know they had to keep the two Noah apart. While separated, their powers were halved, and they tried desperately to reach one another. They had started out fighting solo due to their egos and their pride. But Jasdero was getting wounds faster than he could regenerate, and Debitto was having trouble as well.

She sent nightmare visions to the nearest exorcist, and the attention of another group, as well as a Marshall, switched to her. Lero flew around and dodged, but she had to get to Jasdebi and they were blocking her way. She was the only one who could help. There was no one else in this area of field; Tyki and Lulubell were on the opposite end, Skinn was fighting five junior exorcists a little ways up, and who the hell knew where Allen was.

Jasdero took another hit, right across the face, and his skin was peeled over to reveal the black knots of flesh underneath. He fired his gun sporadically, but panic was messing up his aim; he wasn't hitting any exorcists. They surrounded him and charged inwards. Another hit. She struggled to break through the wall of exorcists to reach the Ninth Noah, unsuccessfully.

"Debitto!" She tried to get the brother's attention, but he was too busy saving his own ass. Exorcists were swarming the twins. The Ninth Noah's voice in her mind was childish and frightened. She sucked as many minds as she could into her dreamscape. The fucking half-asses just kept coming.

Ten exorcists on Jasdero. The presence of a mind captured in her spell disappeared, snuffed out. She strived to kill every exorcist in her mental grasp.

Fifteen exorcists on one Noah. She couldn't even see Jasdero anymore.

Suddenly a nauseating jolt hit her, nearly sending her toppling off Lero. Another mental tenor had disappeared from her mind, like a signal just wiped off a sonar. Involuntary tears stung her eyes and tasted like bitter salt when they pooled on her lips.

A scream tore through the air, not hers, but as anguished as she felt. Debitto's roar only confirmed the dread forming in the pit of her stomach, the feeling of the familiar existence of a mind disappeared from her scope.

A Noah had died.

* * *

She called his name. She knew who he was.

It was _her. _Of course, he thought, how could he not recognize the woman floating above him?

_Lenalee._

She was staring at him with hurt in her eyes, but there was amazement, too. She must have thought he was dead. Almost at once memories rushed back at him. His cutthroat fights with Kanda when he called him _moyashi_. The hilarity of him and Lavi shouting their love to man-eating plants. The triumph he and Lenalee shared when they defended their home with their Point Breaker Innocences. Cross, Komui, the Dark Order.

And other memories, too, he discovered. Lenalee, on the night he was captured, bumping into him in the hallway. Her gorgeous hair, skimming her collar bone, just a bit longer than his. The way she stumbled, a rare lapse of gracefulness and the way she opened her mouth to say, _I'm sorry_. Or that's what he supposed she would have said, but he was too busy kissing her, catching her in his arms before she fell to the ground.

_I remember_, he thought, blushing. Then more excitedly, _I remember!_

He must look insane, grinning like a cheshire cat as the single-most destructive battle in exorcist and Noah history takes place. But Lenalee knew why he was grinning, looking like he'd just found out the meaning of life. Her answering smile melted his heart, erased all those months of torture in the House of the Earl and even years of stalling on both their parts.

Lenalee, Lenalee! Of course he remembered—how could he ever forget? He flew towards her, bringing up both his arms for an embrace. She forgave him. And maybe...she loved him?

"LOOK OUT!" Lavi screamed, hammer shooting through the air as he tried to get to Lenalee.

A Level Four demon broke through the horde of demons, hurtling straight at Lenalee, its child-like cries of joy sounding over the rage of battle. Lenalee activated her Dark Boots and soared through the air to meet the demon head on. She had defeated one of these before, she could do it again.

But last time she'd had the help of two Marshall-level exorcists, Allen and Cross, and this demon wasn't drunk with its intent to kill, destroying everything in sight. Allen saw comprehension dawn in her eyes, realizing too late that she wouldn't be able to defeat this demon, then a moment of pure terror.

And then the Level Four just ripped through her, cutting across her hips. There was a moment of stasis, everything unchanged, until it all fell apart. He gaped in horror as the Dark Boots detached from the rest of its owner. It was a grotesque fireworks display of blood, showering everyone below. And then she was gone, falling through the sky at a rate of a thousand feet per six seconds.

He didn't feel any shock. There wasn't enough time for that. He was seized by anger. Fury rolled over him in waves, crushing his bones and drowning his lungs with horrible wrath. He felt a sob building up in the back of his throat and then he was howling and screaming and baying for blood. Something ugly twisted up inside him, completely foreign to him. _Hate._ He knew he was crying, even though he didn't feel the hot tears that surely stained his cheeks, and there was unbearable pain lodged in his chest. It felt like if he didn't scream, or didn't cry, he would explode. 

_No. NO! _He couldn't see her, she had fallen too fast.

The contrast was so spiteful, so cruel to take raw relief and warp it into hopelessness. Every fiber of his being throbbed in want—it wanted complete _destruction. _

He transformed with a blast of energy, morphing into his black form and releasing the Crown Clown. It was a dual force: Noah and Innocence. He screamed again, a grating mixture of D sharps and F flats, that deactivated every Equipment- or Parasitic-type Innocence, save his own. The Crown Clown cloak whirled around him, and Cross Graves appeared on every demon in his vicinity.

He brought out his sword, cutting down any who got in his way: demon, exorcist, Noah, he didn't _fucking_ care. He just needed to get to Lenalee.

With blood pounding in his ears and war cries in his soul, he repeated a memory over and over in his mind, like a sick, twisted mantra. The memory of Road's mellifluous voice in his head, crooning a simple order to the Level Four demon:

_She's the Heart. Kill her._

* * *

Some rookie exorcist lunged at him. Glory-seeker. Allen shoved passed him, not even bothering to block the attack with his sword. A numbing feeling crept up his chest but it was gone in a moment, disappearing along with the gash left by the exorcist's attack as his Noah skin healed at a mind-boggling rate. He cut through crowds and battles, friend and foe. He had eyes only for the exact spot where Lenalee had been, as if she might fly back upwards any minute, like she had only been off balance.

Demons dropped like flies as he swept through the sky, overwhelmed by the force and intent of his blazing Innocence. Any exorcist who came after him where only ones with Crystal-type Innocence, the one type immune to his destructive keening. It didn't matter though, any wound, no matter how fatal, healed instantly, and his skin sizzled with each rapid regeneration. The air filled with the deadly, and very audible, hum of his Dark Matter energy. When had he last used his Noah powers? Figures dropped from the sky, holding their hands over their ears.

His vision was darkening, and he couldn't understand why. He shoved any questions away and zeroed in on the point where Lenalee had been, letting it be the root of his consciousness. The Level Four was still hovering, had he really gotten there so quickly? He had—Lavi was still extending his hammer, shouting for her to watch out.

_Lenalee is injured!_ he wanted to scream. _Why are you moving so fucking slow?!_

They really were. Everyone seemed to be inching closer, moving towards him with the pace of a feather drifting. Did they think this was funny? He lashed out, scything his sword across the infuriatingly slow mass of people. He glared in satisfaction as bodies dropped from the sky. It served them right after moving so slowly.

All attacks were in slow motion too. The sky became shadowed as wave after wave of weapons and power came at him, but they were like pestering flies. He only had to wave them away. Even if a strike managed to hit him, it glanced off, like his skin had become the strongest steel.

_You see!? _He howled, though it sounded more like growling and snarling to his ears. He was too enraged to speak right. _Lenalee's dead because of you!_ He wasn't even sure who he was talking to.

Another shadow approached him, bringing out his Crystal-type sword. He roared at the exorcist. This was no time to fight! Save Lenalee, you idiot! He grabbed he sword and, with the exorcist attached, flung it away from him. The man rebounded in the sky and flew at him again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, _moyashi_?!" Now was probably the time for a snappy comeback, but he only slapped him away again. Music blasted in the air now, sending exorcists spiraling to the ground, injured or otherwise.

Level Ones evolved to Level Fours instantly, before falling apart due to the unbearable pressure of his howls. He wanted to scream, to roar, to shout his rage to the heavens.

He wanted to kill everyone.

The power in him seemed almost electric, and he imagined that blackpurple sparks were shooting from his frame. Kill. Kill everyone.

He couldn't see anymore, but it didn't matter, he just blasted his powers outward and imagined how many bodies were falling.

He couldn't hear, but he knew there were agonized screams. His entire being crackled with unrestrained rage and hate and grief.

Until he felt a sharp pain, low in his chest, in the core of his torso. And he felt himself falling. Dying. His mind registered one last word before he succumbed to the darkness, and he wondered why he was so glad to hear it as he was felled from the sky like a giant beast.

"_Judgment_."

...

* * *

**A/N:** No, I have not gone insane. Allen's bloodthirsty OOCness was completely _on purpose, _it will all make sense soon enough, I promise. Meanwhile, thank you for all your reviews, and while I pointed this out in the last A/N, you all still brought it up anyway: I said I increased the Dark Order dramatically and _also increased the number of Innocence fragments_.

I know there's only a hundred (109, 119, 149, whatever it is) in the anime, but like the exorcists, I made more.

Also, to answer another question, I don't plan on adding Cyril to the main cast of my story, I don't know anything about him and I sort of stuck him in there because I think his name sounds cool.

Sorry for the long wait—I hope the length of this chapter makes it up to you all. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

His first thought, when waking up in a cold and damp cell three days later, yet _another_ scar marring the skin of his chest, was not, _I can't believe I'm still alive, _but the more cynical, _If I wake up in a dungeon one more time, I'm going to save everyone the trouble and just kill myself. _He was amazed he had any sense of humor left at all. His next thought, after he had cataloged his body's condition, his injuries, and then finally his surroundings, was the slightly more panicked, _This isn't my cell._

Sunlight was streaming through a window on the opposite side of the bars, in a peculiar angle that suggested the room was almost on-level with the sun, instead of below it. He must be very high up.

_Since when does the sun shine at the House of the Earl? _The sun, the unfamiliar cell, the aching in his chest, combined with the vulnerable and naked feeling of the absence of all Noah presence sent him to his knees, gasping. Inadvertently, it also woke the figure who had been sleeping lopsided in a chair in the corner of the room.

"You're awake." Lavi's voice was gruff and entirely devoid of any emotion. Allen jumped up and ran to the bars separating them.

"Lavi!" He let himself smile, because even though he was in a cell and something was definitely off about Lavi, he was still home. After eight long months, he was finally back in the Dark Order. Lavi didn't move from his chair to greet him, in fact, he didn't show any reaction at all to Allen. All he said, in his numbingly blank voice, was, "You look different."

At least he was in his white form, he thought. Dark skin and golden eyes probably wouldn't get him out of this cell. Otherwise, Allen thought he didn't look much different. Curse mark, white hair, pale eyes. It was Lavi who looked different. The red-haired exorcist looked about twenty years older, worry lines in his forehead and shadows under his uncovered eye.

"What's wrong, Lavi? Why am I locked up?" Lavi stood abruptly from his seat.

"_What's wrong?_ Do you have any idea at all what you've done? Do you have the slightest clue about what happened?" Lavi strode over and gripped the bars above his hands; he was still taller than him. "Answer me, for fuck's sake!"  
"I..." Lavi cut him off.

"Your _Clan_ fought us. Your _Clan_ wiped out half our fighting force and you, on your own, took out a quarter the American Branch. You went berserk, you transformed into some...Noah...monster!" He put his face against the bars, as close as he could get to Allen. "_Your Clan killed Lenalee. And you have the audacity to ask why you're locked up?_" Allen stepped backwards, eyes wide and shaking his head in denial. Lenalee?

Oh no. He fell backwards. Memories slammed into him, unrelenting and unforgiving. The war, the Level Four, Lenalee falling...And then all he remembered was red. Rage and blood.

"I was going to fight," he said. "Against the Clan...I was going to come home!" Lavi's face twisted in disgust, and he turned away, his back to Allen. "I was captured, you idiot! I didn't want to join the Noah Clan! Lenalee...Oh god, Lavi. I tried to save her, I—"

The anger that boiled up in Lavi was so instant, so vehement, Allen cringed.

"_Don't_," Lavi hissed. His eye was bloodshot and livid, more demon-like than Kanda on his worst day. He looked like he wanted to say more, like he wanted to scream at Allen, but all he could get out was that one word. Allen felt betrayed, both by the Dark Order and by Lenalee. _How could you leave us?_

A wave of self-loathing rolled over him. He had been so fixed on the memories coming back to him, and the sight of Lenalee, he hadn't stopped the Level Four in time. And he could have, too.

"What's going to happen?" Allen slumped, resigned to his fate. Lifelong imprisonment? Exile from the Dark Order? Lavi didn't meet his eyes.

"Leverrier wanted to execute you," he mumbled. Allen wrestled down a gasp of shock. Lavi had the grace to look ashamed when he said, "But the Order voted on 'eliminating the threat'." Allen furrowed his brows. That sounded an awful lot like killing him.

"They're going to remove your Innocence," he said, eyes still on his feet. Allen stopped breathing. "Komui approved it. Hevlaska is scheduled to extract the fragment tomorrow."

_But..._

Allen couldn't think straight. They would rather have a useless fragment safe in the cube, than as a Marshall-level, Point Breaker Innocence embedded in the arm of a potential traitor? An Innocence fragment that was rare, parasitic-type, and given to him in birth? The extraction process...it would most certainly, literally kill him. The Dark Order distrusted him that much?

After all of his trials and torture, it was still beneath him to beg for his life. Not even as a Plan Z. But Allen couldn't help feeling cheated, like he didn't deserve this. He had been taken against his will to the House of the Earl, force-changed into the Fourteenth Noah, restricted from using his Innocence, and forced to watch fragments being destroyed and to destroy some on his own. But he had willingly trained his powers, killed off exorcists, and taken lives during the war. And so his Innocence was being taken away from him, probably killing him in the process.

Lavi didn't say any more, nor did he ever meet Allen's gaze again. He only sighed, slumped his shoulders, and walked silently out of the room.

Lavi, despite all his resentment, still respected Allen Walker. He was just a kid, barely sixteen, and already he had proceeding titles and an enormous reputation. But none of that would matter by tomorrow. Lavi dug his nails into his forearms. Allen was his friend, but Lavi had voted for the removal of Innocence, along with the Order's majority. It was better than execution, right?

He was a shit friend, and an even worse human being, but it didn't bother him as much as it should have. From the moment he saw Lenalee drop from the sky like a fallen angel, he was a broken man.

Back in his cell, Allen held his head in his hands, mourning the loss of Lenalee, his friends, and soon-to-be lost Innocence fragment. He cursed himself, because even though he had been the victim of the House of the Earl, he still played a main part in murdering his own beliefs. He didn't have to train his Noah powers, he didn't have to kill those exorcists, he didn't have to go to war. But he did anyway, for his own selfish reasons. He had tried to be sneaky, play a dangerous game when he barely knew the rules. It should have come to no surprise that it was all backfiring on him.

_You were seduced by power_, he thought to himself. _Fooled into a false sense of hope. You thought if you were stronger, you would be able to escape, but you only played into their hands._

_Her_ hands.

Stupid. So goddamned stupid. He might have wallowed in self-pity and loathing all the way into the morning, when his Innocence would be extracted, but a startling notion occured to him, and all of a sudden he had to get out. Escape. Because this was all wrong, and he had to fix it somehow. He would _not_ rot away like a pitiful, disgraced animal, and go quietly because of accusations he didn't even remember.

Because he still had his Innocence.

Which meant Lenalee hadn't been the Heart.

* * *

Escaping his cell in the Dark Order was a little bit too easy. He hadn't been chained in, and nothing was reinforced with Innocence or Dark Matter. Even if it was, he could reject either with his different forms. He sawed a hole into the bars (another feature his cell in the House of the Earl lacked) and just walked out the door. He guessed the Dark Order wasn't used to handling death row prisoners, but it was still kind of pathetic. Maybe they had made it easy to escape on purpose. Maybe someone still believed in Allen Walker.

Either way, a condemned prisoner waltzing through the halls was bound to attract attention, so Allen crept cautiously through the maze of halls in the Order. He had no idea where he was in the tower, but his uncanny (and subconscious) ability to find the cafeteria helped him navigate through.

Somehow, someway, he made it outside, and again he thought that maybe someone made it easier to escape. There were a couple scares, though, and he had truly thought that _ThisistheendI'mgonnadie_, but after what seemed like an eternity of blind corners and busy hallways, he was out. Instead of taking the bridge leading away from the tower, he opted to take the way he came a few years ago, down the side of the towering plateau.

He scaled the rough and jagged canyon downwards, grateful he didn't have a suitcase and Timcanpy weighing him down. It took much longer than he would have liked, but soon enough, he was taking his last step down, planting his feet onto the reassuringly firm ground.

The village at the base of the canyon was bustling and lively, its residents going about their daily work, oblivious to the massive organization housed right above their heads. Allen imagined disappearing here, melting into the anonymous crowd. No one would think to look for him there, a scant mile away from the very people he was fleeing from.

But he hadn't escaped to save his life. He wanted to set things right, even if it meant that in the end, the Dark Order removed his Innocence anyway. There were still souls to save, duties to fulfill, and after the war, the Dark Order needed every exorcist they could get.

Of course, exorcists usually had information tip-offs from resources around the world, telling them where Innocence might be located. But that wasn't a problem for someone who could control the Arc, was it?  
How he was going to access the Arc, he had no idea. But he only focused on getting himself to a safe destination. He needed to recollect his thoughts.

He started walking, making his way through the chain of villages heading south from the peninsula of the Dark Order tower. He had maybe gotten ten miles away before some sixth sense made the back of his neck prickle. Someone was following him.

His escape really had been short-lived. Not ten miles away and they already caught up to him. Who had sounded the alarm that he had gone missing? Fighting capture would be even more incriminating, but he'd already made it seem that way when he escaped in the first place. He started darting through alleyways, weaving through corners, and sprinting through open marketplaces. Whoever it was, they were well-trained and followed him without difficulty. He stifled the urge to turn and fight, just to get his retriever off his back.

He ran. As fast as he could. No one paid attention to the boy in the Victorian rags, and if they did, he was soon forgotten. He had to have been running for a solid mile, surely whoever was chasing him was lost in the crowd. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed a sigh of satisfaction.

Out of nowhere, a hand rested itself on his shoulder, friendly and nonthreatening. But Allen still shrieked and spun on his heel. A puff of smoke brought tears to his eyes and choked his exhausted lungs, and it was all he could do not to collapse in relief or run away screaming. Because the tall man, bulked with lean fighter's muscles, blowing smoke in his face, was _not_ Tyki.

"Y-y-y-ou..." He resisted the urge to point an accusing finger at the man.

"Fancy seeing you here, idiot apprentice."

* * *

Somehow, Allen managed to convey his astonishment without screaming to the heavens, "MASTER!?", which would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention, but he came pretty close. Cross laughed his signature haughty, evil, one-man laugh and smacked him on the back with enough force to send him hurtling to the ground.

"If it isn't Allen Walker!" he bellowed, like he hadn't already made a dramatic entrance statement. His face turned sour as he scanned Allen from his prostrate position.

"Why is it that every time we meet, you look like shit?" Allen glared up at him and rose wearily from the ground, seeing as no one offered to help him up.

"Is that supposed to be rhetorical?" Cross laughed again and Allen noticed a slight discoloration in Cross' hair, sort of a brighter tinge of red. Huh?

"Master?" Cross turned his head. Allen pointed at the patch of hair. "Is that _dye_?" Cross choked on his cigarette smoke. "Did you _dye _your hair?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He spluttered. Allen pinched a strand of hair in between his fingers. They came away red.

"Oh my God, you dyed your hair. Afraid of going gray?"

"You're just jealous! You went gray at age seven!"

"My hair is white, master!"

"Besides," Cross said. "It's not dye, it's blood."

"Eh?" Allen sniffed his hair. "Doesn't smell like blood to me."

"You morbid little shit, of course it's blood! I got it on me when I decapitated a demon!"

"Who's morbid now?"

Their bantering had attracted a fair deal of attention, and Allen self-consciously ducked his head. Not many boys had white hair, and he was sure the Dark Order was still looking for him. Come to think of it, they were looking for Cross as well. Cross gestured to a pub with outdoor seating, and they both collapsed on the artful and spindly wrought iron chairs, grateful for momentary rest.

"It's good to see you, master." Allen smiled sadly, feeling a wave of nostalgia clog his throat. Cross snorted.

"Shit, I wish I didn't have to see you. I have a woman at my place, and here I am, slumming it with you." He blew a stream of smoke in Allen's face. He just grinned wryly.

"Admit it, you just missed your idiot apprentice."

"My idiot apprentice needed his ass saved, that's why I'm here. Do you have any idea what happened to you?" He grimaced. All the memories of the past day, that had graciously left him alone, came rushing back.

"Lavi said I went berserk," he said. _And you shot me down._ The bullet was out of his chest, but the scar was still there. "I don't really remember what happened. Just being really angry about..." His voice cracked. _Lenalee_. Cross squeezed his eyes shut in understanding, he had liked Lenalee too.

"Allen," Cross's tone turned serious. "You lost control over your Noah. You were consumed by your Memory." Allen blanched. He lost control? Like Tyki did after he exorcised him in the Arc? That wasn't possible, he reached maturity! How could he lose control?

"But I synchronized! There's no way I could have lost control."

"Tyki reached synchronization too, and you saw what happened to him in the Arc," Allen struggled to suppress his rising panic. He had turned into _that_? Some monster fully enthralled in its Noah Memory? Cross nodded gravely.

"Do you know why?" He shook his head, sharp jerks in denial.

Cross leaned over the table, making sure Allen was looking him in the eye. "Because Tyki subconsciously suppressed his Noah, and when he got desperate and relied completely on his Noah powers, it consumed him."

A memory stirred in the back of his mind. Him in Road's dimension, trapped in an illusion of burning. He had been sure he was going to die, losing control over the songs in his head, scrabbling for power—any power, just to survive...

He hadn't lost control.

He'd never had any to begin with.

"Did you really think you had synchronized so easily? You changed back to your white form because you got scared and suppressed your Noah. Surely you didn't think that was the extent of your powers?" Allen narrowed his eyes.

"Are you implying that I'm capable of more?" Cross pinched his cigarette between his teeth, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly until all the smoke was gone- Cross' version of a sigh.

"Have you ever heard the story of Orpheus?" He continued on without waiting for an answer. "In Greek mythology, he was the son of Calliope, one of the nine Muses. The Muses were trained by Apollo himself, the God of Music. Orpheus was mortal, but he sang as beautifully as the Muses themselves and was sent to Earth to bring the joy of music to other mortals. His voice rang so pure and true that the fiercest warriors lay down their swords in the middle of battle. Savage beasts lay spellbound at his feet, and even the trees and rocks pulled themselves from the Earth to move closer.

"Orpheus was in love with a girl, Eurydice, but on the day of their wedding, a snake bit her. It was poisonous, there was no way to save her, and she died. He was so devastated and miserable that he marched down to the Underworld, singing lamenting songs, and convinced Hades to let him take his wife back. Hades let him, on one condition: He must not turn to look at his wife before he was out of the Underworld. Orpheus was overjoyed, and set out back to the world of the living, Eurydice in tow. But as he neared the opening, he wondered if Hades had tricked him, and that his wife really wasn't behind him. He turned around to face her, just a quick peek he told himself. There she was, his beautiful Eurydice, now gone forever because he didn't trust the king of the Underworld. He went back up to the living world alone, heartbroken.

"He never found joy on Earth after that, and Orpheus wandered through the woods, singing songs so mournful that the forest cried with him. He was finally killed by some maenads, man-eating nymphs that tore him up and threw him into the river. His silvery voice still sang, even in death, and diverted the river so it flowed into the Underworld, guiding him to Eurydice at last." Cross opened his eyes.

"That's a depressing story, master," Allen said finally.

"Some researchers thought Orpheus was the ancient form of the Fourteenth."

"Are you saying I can move trees and rocks with my voice?" Allen was skeptical. Cross threw up his hands.

"Why the hell not? Whistling a tune is all good and well, but you have the memories of the goddamn _Fourteenth_, the guy the Noah Clan wished was never born. You've gotta have more power than that!" Allen slammed his fists down on the table.

"How?! How the hell am I supposed to do that, master? I can barely control my Noah as is. How do you expect me to gain ancient powers when I can't even control the basic ones?" Cross glared up at him through his glasses.

"Orpheus was born with his talent, but his songs became truly powerful when he sang for Eurydice." Allen fell back into his chair. Well, that was a loaded statement.

"Are you asking me if I love someone, master?" He choked back a bitter laugh.

"Don't you?" Cross asked, taking another drag. Allen wanted to blurt out, _Lenalee_, but for some reason he couldn't. He didn't care about anyone in this world as much as he did Lenalee, but he still hesitated, reluctant to admit it. Cross kicked back his chair and stretched, arching his back with a loud crack and yawning obnoxiously.

"I'm sleepy, why don't we hit the sack, idiot apprentice? You can have the floor, I call the bed." Allen groaned and Cross just sneered at him, telling him to get his ass up.

"Why did you tell me that story?" The question was gnawing Allen's mind.

"What's the moral, idiot apprentice?" Allen frowned.

"Don't fall in love?" Cross turned around and put a hand on his shoulder, so much like Mana did when he was younger.

"The moral is: _Don't look behind you_."

* * *

The next morning Allen woke with a note taped to his cheek. He tore it off and stared at the scrawled writing with a scowl on his face.

...

_I had places to go, idiot apprentice, so I'll leave you the bill. 300 guinea. It shouldn't be a problem for you to scrounge up.  
~Cross Marian_

_P.S. Timcanpy wants to stay with you._

...

Sure enough, the golden golem was there, flying around his head. Allen sniggered, a defeated laugh, and left the money on the table. Cross was right, it was all he had.

"Come on, Timcanpy, let's go." The golem took up his usual perch on Allen's head, and he found himself missing the times when Timcanpy never left his side—more peaceful, easier times. The golem swiveled around on his head and tugged his hair, his way of asking Allen where they were going. In truth, Allen didn't really know.

The Noah Clansmen were probably searching for him, and Allen sure as hell wasn't going back to the House of the Earl. For all he learned there, it had been hell, and he had the scars to prove it. The Dark Order wouldn't take him in either, convinced he betrayed them and wanted Hevlaska to take away his Innocence. He was all alone again.

Timcanpy tugged on his hair again and he grinned. Well, not completely alone.

"I don't know where, Tim," he said. "I have to train, for real this time. Tyki had it right; the black and the white, they're both me. I need control over both." He shuddered, he didn't even want to think of all the demons and exorcists he might have killed when his Noah took over his body.

_Don't look behind you.  
_

"Let's move forward, Tim."

...

* * *

**A/N:** Credit for the base facts of the Orpheus story goes to wiki and, of course, the original Greek myth. But the actual telling of the story was my own writing, so yeah, I put a claim on it. Thank you so much for your reviews, which, I swear, make me so happy I'm probably adding years onto my life. So don't hesitate and **please review**. Critiques are also welcome. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Training, Allen found, was a lot easier when you had a trainer other than yourself. Road had only trained him in the basics of Dark Matter and halted all lessons after he reached complete synchronization. Except he hadn't actually reached synchronization.

According to Cross, he had done some sort of emergency suppression of his black form, allowing him to wear his white form even if he hadn't gained maturity. It explained why he couldn't hear music in his head, but he still had headaches whenever he was in his tightly-leashed black form. Either way, suppression had taken a toll on both his mind and his body, so even when fighting in full Noah form, he wasn't at his strongest.

Somehow, he had to start afresh and retrain from the beginning, and hopefully reach maturity for real. But that became a little complicated when he realized he didn't know what the hell he was doing. He didn't even know where to start.

He tried embracing his black form more, using his Noah powers instead of his Dark Innocence. Demons started hording, attracted by the music. Longing rose up in him, a longing to save souls, but using his Innocence would probably only push his Noah powers farther away, so he let them be. They hovered ominously, transfixed by his disciplined hums and whistles.

No change. The same effect. The same numbness in his Innocence and pressure in his skull. He kicked the gravel angrily. Shit. What was he supposed to do? Timcanpy swirled worriedly through the hair. What had Cross said again?

_"His songs became truly powerful when he sang for Eurydice."_

That wasn't much help. Next time his master dropped an arcane story and a three-hundred guinea debt on his shoulders, he would make sure the man at least stayed long enough to explain.

For Eurydice, huh? So he sang for his love. He certainly loved Lenalee, but did he truly _love_ her? Would he travel to the depths of hell to bring her back? Even if he would, it's not like the entrance to the Underworld existed. The closest he'd gotten was the House of the Earl, though he suspected that the Underworld was more cheerier compared to that hell-hole the Noah lived in.

Whether he loved someone or not, and all its complications—he waved the notion away. Besides, that was only important when his powers became more advanced. Right now he needed to focus on the basics. He tugged at his chin, humming thoughtfully.

The demons were starting to tilt and sway, some kind of absurd dance, to go along with his hums. And then he realized he was humming the Heart-hunting song, and the tune dried up in his throat. He still remembered Marshall Yeegar, and how he sang the haunting lyrics, an omen, in his death throes. The song was stuck in his head. An earworm, the Germans called it. How did it go again?

"_Sennen ko ha sagashiteru_..." His voice wavered, but he thought he got the pitch right. Unnoticed by Allen, the demons froze."..._daijina hearto sagashiteru_. _Anata wa atari tashikame_—eh!?" He shot to his feet and spun, staring at the sky. Demons were all around him now. The Earl's song had summoned ten times more demons than first gathered. They were all shuddering, like they had short-circuited.

He studied the demons sharply, continuing the song. "_Anata wa atari tashikameyo. Daijina hearto sagashiteru_..." As soon as the Japanese _heart_ left his lips, the demons suddenly retreated, arcing through the sky.

"Wait!" he called after them. As the Fourteenth, his orders were the weakest among the Noah, but they should still obey him, especially since most were Level Ones. Some of them stalled, but the others continued their course, ignoring his calls as if under a spell. Had he done that? He realized he had never tried adding words to his songs, or even tried singing a song in general. He only whistled or sang pitches that came to mind, random notes.

Would actual songs and lyrics make his Noah powers stronger? The Heart-hunting song, holding true to its namesake, seemed to command the demons to search for the Heart. Where his telepathic orders were weak, the memories of Music seemed to control the demons with as much influence as Road. Could he do other things with songs?

He was reminded of the Arc, and how he was able to stop the download, stabilize it, and save all his friends just with the power of a piano. At that time, a voice was singing in his head, adding lyrics to the ancient piano notes as he played. He wondered what would have happened if he joined in.

Surveying the remaining demons hovering in the sky, he tried a different song. His voice rang out, strong and precise, despite the anxiety-induced stress that swirled in his stomach. The change in the demons was immediate, although, not quite what he was expecting.

They shuddered a few more times, faint twitches, and then suddenly attacked in an angry swarm. He didn't want to risk reversing his progress by using his Innocence, so he could only frantically dodge the bullets fired off by suddenly enraged demons. Their moans filled the air and their eyes turned red. Evidently his lullaby had pissed them off.

_Command it_, he hissed at himself. _Take control. _It was time to stop being a coward. He sang the song louder, ignoring the furious howls of the Level Ones above him. They swooped lower, roaring and shooting their cannons, incensed by the pitch of his voice and lilt of the song. His Innocence spasmed, but he ignored it. Why would this song hurt them, but not the Earl's? The Earl's song declared his search of the Heart, but this lullaby was about freedom, sung by wishful slaves.

He hit the ground to his left at a roll, dodging a bullet that would have hit him pointblank otherwise. His experiment was getting risky, and while he was certainly learning about his Noah powers, he didn't want to get blown to oblivion in the process.

Allen released his hold on his Innocence arm and black knives spurt from his fingertips. He was pleased to find that his actual Noah powers didn't dim as he cleaved demons in half with the Crown Clown.

When there was only one demon left, deranged by his unyielding voice, he sprung forward, ready to deal the final blow. Only he never got the chance.

The Level One plummeted from the sky, ablaze in black flames, shrieking like a spurned child. He retracted his claws in horror. What just happened? The grounded demon writhed in the unnatural fire, and to his complete astonishment and disgust, started to shrivel and _shrink_. The massive demon, a foot soldier for the Millennium Earl, was wasting away into nothing. Or...something.

Allen gaped disbelievingly as the demon condensed into a vaguely human form, still black after being razed from the spontaneous flames. As the charred skin started to crumble and dust away, Allen saw a figure, plainly human, uncurl from within. It stretched, rising from the ashes of the felled Level One, to reveal pale skin, supple as any newborn's, although the human/demon's form looked like an adult's.

The human...demon..._it,_ was decidedly female, at least in form, and Allen voiced a silent 'thank you' to the heavens that she was clothed. This whole event was bizarre enough without a naked woman crawling out of a cremated demon.

Allen was still figuring out how to work his vocal chords to voice a hearty '_What the hell is going on?_' but then the woman walked towards him, and her appearance made his eyes bulge out of their sockets even more. Singed embers still clung to her skin, but it didn't seem to cause her any pain since she held his gaze levelly with eyes black as coal with an iris the color of blood. A star stood stark against the pale skin of her forehead, just like the ones that adorned the demon servants at the House of the Earl.

Allen couldn't see her soul either, not anymore. But what surprised him most—as the brilliant and disturbing colors of her eyes faded into simple hazel, and the black star dematerialized from her forehead—was when she dropped to one knee, bowed her head in submission, and said:

"Master Allen Walker, I am at your service."

His voice failed him again, and for a moment he could only manage hitching inhales before he finally wheezed a response.

"What _are _you?" The girl furrowed her brows, as if she didn't know herself, and then hesitantly replied,

"I am yours, Master Allen Walker. I am a modified demon."

* * *

For maybe the thousandth time in his life, Allen Walker cursed his master. Every time his old teacher showed up, he gave Allen a tidbit of helpfulness and a mountainload of distress. He wasn't sure how Cross managed the process (probably through Grave of Maria's purifying songs), but the result of demons subjected to the uplifting and _converting_ songs of Innocence—and in his case, the Memory of the Fourteenth—was a modified demon willing to obey every word out of its creator's mouth.

They also tended to take the form of an attractive girl. Coincidence?

_Damn you, master_, he thought bitterly. Marshall Cross, who was renowned for discovering a method to modify demons, and legendary for concealing the secret to that method, had probably only stumbled on it during one of his disgraceful, womanizing fits. He didn't even want to think of all the things his master could have ordered the modified demons under his rule to do. Unspeakable, lecherous things.

"Are you alright, Master?" The modified demon, Cecily, she said her name was, spoke with such concern and reverence Allen nearly retched. It didn't help that she had to tack on 'master' at the end of every sentence, which only brought up images of his sleazebag teacher.

"I'm fine," he assured her, stalking through the streets of the neighboring city in an effort to lose her. Cecily kept pace with him easily, probably due to the physically enhanced form of a demon. She also seemed completely oblivious to his not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of her. He understood that _he_ had created her, and was thus _his_ burden to bear, but he hadn't counted on producing a disconcertingly loyal she-demon while trying to control his Noah powers.

While on his quest to rid himself of the modified demon, Allen was also looking for a safer place to train; preferably an enclosed area inaccessible to, ahem, _demons_.

"You want a place away from what?" she asked.

"Demons," he repeated, not wanting to offend her. "I need to train without getting attacked in the process." She nodded seriously and scanned the city streets with narrowed eyes, searching for the perfect paradise for her master. Allen sighed and brushed Timcanpy off his shoulder, motioning for the golem to take up his perch on his head where it was more comfortable.

A hand seized his shoulder and he almost rapid-changed into his black form before he realized it was only Cecily. For some reason his patience was wire-thin today, and it took every ounce of control and discipline not to chop her arm off when she vigorously shook his shoulder.

"What about there, Master?" She pointed to an empty warehouse across the street, squeezed in between a laundromat and a dilapidated church. She still had a death-grip on his arm, deceptively dainty fingers clasped on top of his shoulder. He realized he could just order the girl to let go, but that seemed rude. Why was he so _touchy_?

"Yes, that'll work," he murmured, holding back a growl as she finally released him. Something, something within him, seemed to have complete aversion to anything resembling imprisonment. He needed rest, he decided, meditation and thorough training.

Allen made his way across the street towards the warehouse, shouldered the rusty door away from the opening, and stepped inside. The air was chill, but mercifully dry compared to the humidity outside. Allen was doubly grateful; he didn't know how many more damp and cold places he could take.

The groundwork was simple, a plain rectangle with concrete walls and floor. It was a little musty, with assorted twisted metals and wood scraps pushed against the walls, and everything had a layer of caked dirt. But there was a clear area in the center, and plenty of space to move around, so Allen considered it a success.

The demons would still be attracted by the music, but now he had concrete over his head, and demons might hesitate to use their bullets when there wasn't a clear target. Of course, nothing was stopping the demons from modifying, but Allen was still working through all the details.

"Master?" The innocent voice was right at his ear. He jerked a little, squelching a tiny burst of rage. Really, what was wrong with him? Was he losing control over his Noah again?

"What is it?" He turned and took a step back. Cecily looked...forlorn—that was really the only word to describe the expression on the modified demon's face. She twisted her skirts, unexplainable clothes that had materialized during the modification process.

"Do you really have no other requests of me?" He frowned, thinking.

He wondered what Cross ordered these demons to do, and then decided that line of thought wasn't the wisest. Then again, Cross didn't _always_ shirk on his duties. Even though he was perpetually MIA, Cross still did a lot of reconnaissance and groundwork for the Dark Order. He was sort of the self-appointed head of the Dark Order's Secret Service.

Cross had organized a rendezvous in Edo, for all intents and purposes: enemy territory, and set up a network of modified demons to guide the Marshalls and their group. Meanwhile, he had infiltrated the Arc and learned all the encryption keys for the Egg to stop the download if needed. A thankless, unanticipated job, yet his master had done it anyway. Allen would be that kind of person, that kind of exorcist. The Order might not appreciate him, or even want him dead, but nevertheless, he was an exorcist. It was always his decided path.

A smile quirked on his lips, but it was gone when he surveyed his surroundings once again. Time to get serious.

"Cecily," he said, in the best authoritative voice he could manage. She immediately perked up, ready for any 'requests of her'. Cross had found intricate uses for his various henchmen, but Allen had no complicated plans worked out, not yet at least.

But the modified demon _should _be adept at locating Dark Matter and such (though he had no idea what their capacity for intelligence was, he just assumed it was the same as when they were human).

"You know what the Arc is, right?" She nodded enthusiastically. "I need you to search for the nearest Arc transporter, and then report it back to me." There were thousands of transporters scattered across the globe, and Road had surely changed all the locations by now. If Allen could control the Arc, he had access to every major city worldwide, and he could branch out his plans from there. He also wanted to find the piano room again.

Allen half-expected Cecily to salute him as she dipped her head in a low bow and raced off, determination glinting in her eyes. _What a tiring day_. Annoyance still thrummed in his veins, but he felt more sure of himself. He had asserted his plans, found a peaceful hideout, and gotten rid of his tag-along.

He clenched his teeth. Normally, when he was this tense, he trained his body—his muscles were already dancing and quivering. But he couldn't risk losing control again, and how often did he get any downtime?

He dropped cross-legged to the ground, elbows pointed out and hands gripping his knees so they wouldn't bounce. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and sang.

...

* * *

**A/N: **Not an earth-shattering 'Oh-my-god' chapter in any sense, but I needed events set into place, not unlike Chapter Three. I'm sorry for the shamefully late update (I plead a particularly nasty case of Writer's Block).

Also! Don't worry about Cecily. I didn't just shove a random OC into my plotline—I like to think I have better taste than that. She will never be a major character, Allen won't fall in love with her, and they will not have an abundance of adorable white-haired demon babies.

So sorry for the overdue update and the boring chapter, although, if you would review (what you liked, didn't like, suggestions), I promise I will post the next chapter as soon as possible. Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

_Soshite bouyaha nemurini tsuite_

_Ikizuku haino nakano honoo_

_Hitotsu...futatsuto... _

_U__kabu fukurami itoshii yokogao_

_Daichini taruru ikusenno _

_Yume...yume..._

_Ginno hitomini yuraga yoruni_

_Umareochita kagayaku omae _

_Ikuokuno tositsukiga _

_Ikutu inoriwa tsuchide kaheshitemo_

_Watashiha inorituzukeru mou kakonnokotoni aiwo_

_Tsunaidateni..._

_

* * *

_

—_One week later_—

The echoes of his footsteps along the tiled floor were noticeably unaccompanied—uncomfortably, almost painfully so. Debitto did his best to ignore the pain, as he did with the other pains that had surfaced because of the war. It didn't really work, though.

He was acutely aware of his solitude, idling around the Arc like a lost child, and the horrible ache in his body, as if someone had tried to wrench his skeleton out from inside him and only half-succeeded. A part of him recognized the disgrace he should feel—reduced to meandering around with a semi-functioning gun and no other duties—but in truth, he didn't feel much of anything.

Not that he thought himself apathetic. Hell no. He just didn't have the energy to feel strong emotions, like rage and remorse. These days, it seemed he didn't have enough energy for anything.

While the Clansmen struggled to maintain daily routine and go out for a morning harvest, Debitto was left behind to stagger around the Arc like the incompetent dead-weight he now was. Road had offered to stay behind, keep him company (and a small, petty part of him relished in her giving him attention), but he waved her off like the rest of them, intent on escalating this unfamiliar loneliness to its full potency. Maybe he was masochistic.

He hadn't been officially banned from harvesting, but the tacit concern that emanated from everyone, even the Earl, was enough to tell him that he would be an idiot to try to access his powers. Even he, between his addled mind and weakened body, could tell that he wasn't up for anything of the fighting sort. He hadn't ever reached maturity, but there was a noticeable loss in control over his Noah since the battle with the exorcists.

He wouldn't be able to fire his gun occasionally, or it wouldn't fire the bullet he intended. The force of his attacks, understandably, was halved. It seemed Jasdero took his half of the Ninth Noah's powers with him to the grave, or wherever the hell dead Noah Clansmen went. He remembered the pain in his chest, vicariously felt through his twin, as the Innocence thrust through Jasdero proved to be a killing blow. The caustic, corrupting burn of Innocence that was supposed to be _holy_ had felt more unholy than Debitto could have imagined. He expected to die. He _wanted _to die.

No one could understand why he didn't. After all, he and Jasdero were literally the same being, the same entity split up at birth, who eventually shared the Memory of Bonds. But when he felt the reflexive tears flow down his makeup- and sweat-streaked cheeks and the power of his Noah being sucked away with his brother, he knew that he _wasn't_ dying, and damn if that wasn't the most depressing, agonizing feeling he had ever experienced.

So the Memory of Bonds survived, partially intact, and proceeded to drive its surviving host to the brink of insanity, or at least wrest control from him. Debitto tried his best to maintain his normally unwavering control over his Noah, but sometimes it was just too much. His thoughts and the Ninth Noah's will would slur together in an occasionally contradictory interminglement, and the result was more than unnerving.

Debitto would be at the dinner table, arguing with his trademark obnoxious yell: "Shut the hell up, Skinn, I—" And then the unmistakable childish voice of the Ninth Noah pulsed through the minds of the Clan, interjecting,"—_Do you want to play with me?_"

Right. No combat for him, not now or anytime soon. So he spent his morning strolling through the Arc, twirling his gun by the trigger with a certain grace that even mental instability couldn't take away, listening to (and ignoring) the echo of his boots bouncing off the walls and tiles.

Ideally, this should have been considered mourning, but Debitto only really saw it as killing time. He had lost a lot of purpose due to the recent war, and so had the rest of the House of the Earl. The Heart hadn't been destroyed, although a good number of exorcists had. Jasdero had died, crippling him in the process due to their shared power, and the Fourteenth had died, presumably by the hand Marshall Cross.

It would be awhile before the memories of the Fourteenth reincarnated into another mind, when the process of the Noah transformation would occur as it has for hundreds of years, but for now the Clan could do without the Fourteenth. They had been betrayed twice now. When the powers of the Noah of Music surfaced again in an undeserving human, the Noah Clan would not welcome him with open arms. More likely a bullet through the head.

He was so absorbed in his vengeful and somewhat rattled thoughts that he might have walked right into the person in front of him if not for the hum of the Noah presence that suddenly flared up like a warning signal. He froze, his thoughts becoming so instantly frenzied it was a wonder he didn't jump the fucker right then and there.

Allen, too, stopped in his tracks, and his mind flew through a hundred different things to say before he finally settled on:

"So...how are things?"

* * *

—_Flashback: One week before_—

_Allen.  
_

Lyrical. Insistent. He groaned in his sleep.

_Al-len._

When he opened his eyes, it wasn't entirely obvious he was in a dream.

This world looked much the same as the real one. The only indicator, in fact, was not the shadowy darkness of the dream, or the identical warehouse setting, but the presence of a mirror in front of him. That was not the same. Neither was the face that looked back at him, a skewed reflection. Even though it accurately reflected the deadly perfect image of his black form (down to the tears in his clothes and dirt on his boots), he was pretty sure he wasn't grinning like the face in the mirror was.

It was a cynic's grin, with an air of haughtiness that suggested they knew something no one else did, and found it deliriously funny. The reflection, noticing Allen's scrutiny, grinned just a bit wider, lips twisting into a derisive sneer that showed teeth. Conversely, Allen's scowl deepened. Was this his Noah? It didn't feel at all like the aura of the Fourteenth, and didn't look it either.

"Who are you?" His voice was muted, like he was speaking underwater.

"_Allen_," it said, in a disturbingly similar voice to his own. He wasn't sure if it was answering his question or calling out his name. His mirror-image brought a clawed hand to the glass separating them and grated a nail against the surface. The eyes were glassy, blank like doll's eyes, but there was no mistaking some form of _life_ in that grin, no matter how unholy.

He was debating whether or not he should ask the question again, or do the instinctive: touch the mirror, but then he was falling. A sudden, fast plummet that wrenched the air from his lungs and made his vision spin. He jerked out of the dream, muscles shuddering unpleasantly as they were wreathed in adrenaline. It was another few moments before he could breathe again.

He stared up at the ceiling, or the blackness up where the ceiling should be, his breaths slow but shallow. He didn't even want to _think_ of deciphering that dream. No way.

His head hurt.

The shadows in the warehouse were sinister and imposing. He tried to ignore the ones that looked like crescent-moon grins and the spikes of crowns. His eyes darted feverishly around the room and he wondered if this was maybe nausea or some other dreadful illness. That would be the final cherry on top of a shitty sundae: dying a slow, wheezing death in an empty warehouse with the frigid air choking him, knowing he had survived torture, a death sentence, and countless fatal injuries, to, in the end, be snuffed out by a virus.

He kicked off the ratty blanket decisively, standing and straightening his body without even a hint of a tremble. Somehow his safe-haven warehouse had become a dark, claustrophobic prison, and he strode outside into the languid night without a second thought.

The city's clocktower read 2:13 in the AM. Allen guessed that this must be a quiet city since there weren't any people out, save a few drunks, and even they were sleeping. He took a moment to look, just look, at the slumbering town around him. It had drizzled at some point earlier in the day, and the cobblestones glinted in the sallow streetlight. It could have been London, this place, except for the smell in the air—or lack thereof. In Britain, the air always smacked of ozone after it rained, a sickly sweet odor that clung to damp hair and rain-spattered cheeks.

A deep sigh overwhelmed him, half groan, half yawn. It smoked through the air in a crystallized puff. His throat felt scratchy, hoarse after singing for so long. He had sung until his voice cracked, his notes off-pitch, but nothing new had been accomplished. Frustration twisted his stomach and the familiar, horrible feeling of stress made him want to scream, curse, pummel the rain-slick stone with his bare fists. What was he doing?

He was fleeing from the House of the Earl, on the run from the Dark Order. He needed to take control over an ancient implanted memory of a divine being before it drove him to insanity. And he would be a complete idiot not to recognize what the stiffness in his left arm meant. His Dark Matter was wearing against his Innocence, slowly destroying it, and he only hoped he could stop or delay the effects before paralysis set in.

He was dying, he realized. Smothered by incessant stress and fatal, inescapable odds. Even with a simple goal, a clear path to take, he would still be in a constant struggle between his mental and physical state. Nothing could prevent that.

He glared at the sky, riddled with stars and wisps of cloud, eyes sullen but strangely at peace. He would find the Arc, he would reach maturity, and he would locate Innocence and save demons. He would be an exorcist. And when he died, either due to unrecoverable injury or the inevitable deterioration of his mind, he would die knowing that he had done his duty, following the only path he ever knew, or wanted.

* * *

In the end, the result was simple. And while the revelation was certainly appreciated, Allen couldn't help but smack his head and think '_of course_' every time he was reminded of how up-front the solution really was. The answer came, like everything did now that he was a Noah Clansmen, in the form of a splitting headache.

With dawn came one of the worst and most extensive headaches of his life. Explosions of pain from the tops of his brows to the spine in his neck. He woke up thrashing and screaming, nails dug into the blanket as his body arched upwards in seizure-like convulsions. His brain _must_ be on the verge of rupturing, because there was no way any creature could survive this kind of pressure. His head was killing him.

Not because of some horrific nightmare and not even because of the mind-numbing music he had been subjected to in his earlier Noah days. But the _voice_. The voice was so loud, so terrifyingly powerful, it was all he could do not to moan and keen in pitiful, high-pitched wails. Ignoring the fact that he was now hearing voices in his head—well, one voice—Allen managed to sit up, on his elbows and knees, ready to vomit or pass out or curl up and die.

_Allen._ It was no longer soft. It was no longer musical and laced with the stiffness of unvoiced laughter. The voice was angry, malicious, and—_LISTEN TO ME.  
_

He cowered, clutching his mismatched arms to his ears even though he knew the sounds were coming from inside his mind. Looking back, it really was simple. The answer to his frustrating training and the unexplainable evasion of his maturity:  
He needed to stop suppressing the Fourteenth.

Not _his _Noah, or _his_ powers. The Fourteenth Memory of Noah, the man he had met in the secret piano room of the Arc. It seemed so obvious to him now. He had heard Road's Noah before, a deep, gravelly voice that brought him to his knees in submission each time he heard it. And Jasdebi's too—more of a childlike, lilting voice that you couldn't help but obey. The Noah could all communicate telepathically, but they issued orders through their Noah, something Allen had never attempted or even thought of.  
And finally, fed-up and grossly impatient, his Noah had sought him out, instead of the other way around. Sick of Allen answering only to that imperious Clown, the Fourteenth had decided to emerge.  
He didn't appear in his human sight, no one materialized in the warehouse, but suddenly Allen could see him, the Player, the Musician, the Fourteenth. The Noah whose powers he imitated, although he could see now that his half-hearted songs and attempts at music didn't do the Fourteenth justice. Just the voice of the Fourteenth incapacitated Allen, never mind pitches or lyrics. There was no way Allen had ever been that powerful.

The Fourteenth looked exactly the same as he did in the Arc. Large, yet nonthreatening. Grinning, yet completely serious. And somehow he looked different. Clearer, more defined. The Fourteenth no longer looked like dusky shadows of charcoal and gray. Allen could see now that the Fourteenth dressed in simple clothes—peasant clothes. Yet he radiated with such an outstanding brilliance, he could have very well been staring at the sun. Did all Noah look like this?

The Fourteenth said his name again, and some of the harshness had left his voice. He knew he had Allen's attention now. He berated Allen for ignoring him with a single, glassy-eyed look, one that conveyed the ancient Memory's impatience and indulgence. Allen found himself understanding every movement his Noah made, deciphering the tiniest expressions as if he knew what the man was thinking the instant he thought it. It was probably normal—after all, this was a memory implanted into him, weaved into the tendrils of his mind in the most arcane of rituals.

Once the Fourteenth decided Allen successfully punished, the searing headache ebbed, leaving him to whimper in relief and focus his entire concentration on the figure that had surfaced. The Fourteenth spoke his name once more, which Allen understood. He had shut out his Noah for far too long, and suppression had diminished any leads of communication.

He would have to open his mind completely to the Noah, give up every recess of his mind to share with the Fourteenth until they inhabited the same vessel. Until they shared the same thoughts, intentions, body and power. He would have to train, shape and temper his mentality until he achieved consummate precision. Only then would he be able to communicate with his Noah, to reach the highest level of synchronicity.

And then he would reach maturity. And the real work would begin.

* * *

—_Present time: One week later_—

Cecily panted in triumph as she finally crested the hill leading to the town. Instinctively, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand even though there was no sweat accumulated from her journey. She realized she could've transformed into her demon form and flown, but since this was the first time since she was created that she had any control over her own will, she preferred to stay in the modified form her master had granted her.

It had taken her longer than she expected to find an Arc transporter, but after a week of searching, she found a portal in the outskirts of a fishing village. All she had to do was follow the inborn scent of Dark Matter, and she could find the Arc. She just hoped she hadn't disappointed her master. What if he left without her? She chided herself. He had sent her to find something he needed, and he couldn't leave until he got it. But what if that was just a diversion to get her away from him?

When she hefted the thick door away from the entrance to the warehouse, she noticed that it hadn't been opened in some time and immediately panicked. Rust dusted along the frame of the door, and if not for her abnormal strength, she didn't think she would have been able to open it.

"Master?" It was dark, even after light streamed in from the open doorway, and the air tasted stale. Oh no. He really had left without her. Cecily made herself take a step into the cavernous room and her careful footsteps echoed nosily. Surely there was no one inside, no one but serial killers and muggers and homeless old men with rotting teeth.

She called out again, hoping she only imagined the hitch in her voice. The room was ominously hollow, nothing good could be lurking in there. Regret crashed into her as her mind dredged up scenarios featuring Allen angry or disappointed or laughing at her stupidity. Demons didn't cry, but her face scrunched up anyway. He wasn't here.

"Master..."

"Cecily."

She whirled, morphing her arms into the deadly Level One demon cannons that she detested. But her gasps of hysteria dried up in her throat when she saw who it was, though it took her a moment to recognize him. Even his voice seemed changed.

Allen was not dirty or broken or looked like the crazed sort of person who holed up in warehouses. He was not desperate or furious or even particularly surprised to see her. He must have sensed her presence, as the master of a modified demon should, but Cecily couldn't understand why she didn't sense his.

He felt totally different and looked it too; evident in just the way he moved and spoke. He radiated confidence, despite his scruffy clothes and tousled hair. His soft, kind eyes now sparked with a hint of invincibility, turning mellow gray into chips of silver. And perhaps most noticeable of all, at least to her, was the drastic change in his aura. Along with the familiar soothing essence that was Allen Walker when he modified her, she felt a swirl of something powerful, like a tempest waiting to strike.

Like no matter what you did or how you prepared, the storm would come, and it would come down hard.

"Did you find an Arc transporter?" Demon instincts awakened in her at the tenor of his voice, fighting against the her human body, and she felt a prickle on her forehead that informed her that her pentacle was appearing. Just the feel of Allen's Noah was starting to reverse the modification process and she swallowed another wave of hysteria because either way, he would still be her Master. She just wished she could keep her human form.

"Is something wrong? Did you find it?" She bowed her head, letting her hair cover the demon mark on her forehead.

"Yes, Master! One near the fishing village a couple miles south of here." She wouldn't disappoint him. He smiled, a full grin that showed teeth, and thanked her. And then the color began to spread over his face and body, gradual but fast, like ink spilled over his skin. From his hairline to his collar, extending to his wrists and peeking out at the exposed flesh of his hip, the charcoal hue of a Noah Clansman replaced Allen Walker's pale complexion. Only his white hair stayed unchanged. Even his eyes changed color—one gold, one red.

The dark _stigmata_ suited him oddly, but he made no move to brush the hair away from his forehead. Even if he was at peace with his black form, he didn't feel the need to advertise his status like Tyki did.

"Let's go," he said, in what he hoped was an optimistic tone. Cecily still seemed awestruck, and it took her a moment to realize he had set off running before she snapped out of it and sprinted after him. She just barely caught up.

The Arc transporter hadn't changed, not affected at all by the dramatic string of events since he last used it. It was the same burnished ark that invoked uneasy feelings of familiarity, now both by inborn instinct and by experience. For the first time, he wondered what the Noah Clan thought happened to him. Sensing Cecily gearing up for a slew of questions, he put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to stay behind.

"But—" she started to say, but he was already traveling into the Arc. He braved the nauseating swirl of dimension transfer, guided by a solitary Tease, into the echoing fortress that was the Arc. Mission accomplished, Allen wanted nothing more than to leap through one of the doors and go back to the Dark Order, but suddenly, surprisingly, he needed to see the Noah Clan. He needed to know what they were doing, what they thought of the war. Surely someone was harvesting this morning.

He sprinted through the halls, the traditional method of travel. The pounding of his footsteps, the steady inhales and exhales of his lungs, and the beat of his heart all came together in a syncopated rhythm. Every echo had a note, G sharp, D flat, F, B, A. His Noah informed him of all the pitches swirling through the air.

And then it informed him that something was coming. Someone's essence was grating along his own, skirting the edge. It felt familiar, but for some reason Allen couldn't place it. It seemed...broken, almost. Incomplete. Was there a new Noah?  
He extended his awareness as far as he could, trying to get a mental taste of the other being in the Arc. The distorted aura fluctuated and morphed constantly and Allen could tell that whoever else was in the Arc, they couldn't sense him. He headed in the direction towards the source, wondering if it was wise to catch them off-guard or if he should make himself known.

In the end, he didn't have to decide, because as he rounded the corner towards the Arc doors that opened along the European coastline, he saw Debitto.

Allen was so surprised by the change in the Ninth Noah, he stopped in his tracks. This was the feel of the Ninth Noah? Where was the steady buzz in the air that signaled the notorious twins? What was with this discordant pulse that seemed to replace it? And where was Jasdero? Debitto looked sullen, and even his model-like physic seemed much leaner than he remembered.

Instead of his usual arrogant slouch, Debitto was hunched over and his face was gaunt. He still applied makeup under his eyes and streaked on his cheeks, but it was blurry, even sloppy, and blended in with his Noah skin.

And then the Ninth Noah's aura became hostile, warping and lashing against his own. Debitto froze, and slowly, slowly met his gaze. He looked surprised, furious, and amazed all at once. His posture stiffened, hackles drawn up like a cornered dog.

Allen knew Debitto was about to attack, and raised his hands in an effort to placate the dark-haired Noah of Bonds.

"So...how are things?" Allen took a step back, but the Fourteenth's essence smashed up against Debitto's anyway, and they both met and churned cyclonically. They stared each other down, Music and Bonds, Fourteenth and Ninth. Allen hadn't meant to cause trouble, but it was clear that Debitto was _not_ on peaceful terms.

He saw Debitto's muscles bunch once and then they both bolted, Allen leaping up and to the side and Debitto yanking his gun out of its holster and rapid-firing three shots, all different Materials. They missed, but the dark-haired twin was already pulling the trigger and a succession of four bullets burst towards Allen. Allen hit the ground at a roll and immediately jumped upwards again, dodging Debitto's frenzied shots.

The Noah of Bonds was in a rage. He had never liked that puny exorcist, and to have the gall to show his face in the Arc when he was supposed to be dead was too much. Why hadn't his _brother_ survived? His Noah wasn't helping him relax either. The Ninth was tired of being lonely, he wanted to play.

Debitto materialized shots without even knowing their substance. Without synchronicity with his twin, what did it matter? But no matter how fast he loaded and fired, and how many bullets whizzed through the air, Allen dodged every last one of them. He thought his eyes might bulge out of his head in fury when he saw that Allen wasn't even panicked, leaping and dodging with ease. There wasn't even the exorcist's trademark fluster, and his expression was enviously calm. Damn it!

"FUCK YOU!" he spat, snarling as he expertly aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet was a blaze of fire, easily a yard across, but it only singed the hem of Allen's shirt. "Are you ever gonna attack me, pussy? Go ahead! _Keep fucking dancing. _Aren't you gonna sing a pretty song?"

Allen's responding glare was withering, and Debitto had to admit it was a little unsettling. A piercing stare of red and gold. He swallowed and fired a shot, calling out: "The Millennium Earl!" _Please work, please work.  
_

A lifelike version of the Earl materialized and drew his sword from the air, scything it through the air and bringing it down on top of Allen with all the force Debitto could muster. The tiles of the Arc buckled at the impact, and a mini-earthquake reverberated outwards in a mile diameter. But, fuck, Allen had dodged, shooting up into the air at the very last moment and landing perfectly balanced on top of the Earl's hat.

"Oh, you think you're fancy now, freak? You're a goddamn half-ass. An _exorcist._ Where's your fucking Innocence and your _worthless, insignificant Noah pow_—_"  
_

The ground shook again, this time on a massive scale. It felt like the whole Arc was shuddering. Allen and Debitto quit moving, stumbling as they tried to navigate through their shaky visions. A new presence joined the scape, crushing inwards as it converged with the infuriated essences of the Ninth and the Fourteenth.

Even as riled and incensed as they were, they still balked at the overwhelming force that emanated from the newcomer. Debitto was still fuming and once his vision set straight, ignoring the oppressive force, he cocked back his gun and aimed for Allen before a blast of power all but brought him to his knees. Shit. If only if he were in his true form...

Allen too froze, and his knees wobbled uncertainly at the amount of pressure he was defying. He almost gave up and collapsed when he saw who it was, but he reminded himself that he wasn't the same scared, imprisoned Allen Walker he was the last time they saw each other. He straightened, raising his chin defiantly even though the newcomer was almost a head shorter.

Road was in full black form, just like them, absent of Lero and substantially pissed off. She stopped a few yards away from them, glared at Debitto and then, in a flash even he couldn't follow, stepped right up to him. She appeared right under his chin, giving him no time to react as she whispered with raw malice,

"_What the hell is going on?_"

...

* * *

**Massive A/N:** Before any of my digressions or pointless excuses, I'd like to thank every one of you who has read this fic, and especially those who have reviewed. Thanks to you guys, this story got a hugely unanticipated 100+ reviews, and I couldn't be more grateful. Even if the reviews were criticisms or just 'update soon's, I really do appreciate each and every one. Thanks, you guys (:

Now, for my excuses. You know the one, the reason for me not updating for -how long has it been?- like ten freaking days. Yes, you know it: writer's block. Okay, so it was massive writer's block, but I'm still a horrible person for making you guys wait so long, so I apologize. It was more like a creativity block- I just could not write. (Remember in Kiki's Delivery Service, when she couldn't fly anymore? Yeah, just like that).

In other news: Summer is pretty much over for me. I have one week left which will be spent in Cancun, which has no internet access (free at least) so I won't be able to update for another 10 days or so. And then I have to start school again, so updates will be less frequent than they were during summer. But I will _not_ be abandoning this story or putting it on hiatus- I'm seeing it to the end.

As for this chapter, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. I kind of rushed it (seeing as I have to pack and all) and I'm afraid some of the writing quality may have been lost. There were also some unclear parts, but I promise it will make sense in the next chapter. So if you could **please review** and tell me what you liked/disliked/"UPDATE SOON!!??#$%", I will post a chapter as soon as I get back home. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

"_What the hell is going on?_"

He stared, muscles clenched in case she was about to attack. It was strange. This reunion was completely different from the one he had with the Dark Order, although both were hostile. To him, Road hadn't changed a bit, unlike his brief encounter with Lavi, who had looked about ten years older and was absent of all former humor and charm. She was still short and spunky, her hair unruly and tousled in the way it got whenever she was pissed off. She was too familiar, too similar. Why hadn't Lavi looked unchanged? Maybe it was because it had only been a few weeks since he'd last seen Road, instead of eight months.

Memories sprang to the surface of his mind, unwanted. The last time he had seen Road, she was heading into a war with him, commanding him to fight and kill his old comrades. The last time he had seen her, Lenalee was still alive.

_Lenalee.  
_

"Allen!" He jerked, meeting Road's eyes again. She stood a half-step away from him, legs spread in a fighting stance, yet all she did was stare at him, as if her furious glare was enough to make him disappear or burst into flames.

"Road, I—"

"Road!" Debitto lunged from the ground, swinging his gun with murder in his eyes. He jerked it at Allen. "Road, this fucker just waltzed in here, with his Noah powers practically sucking all the oxygen outta the place, and—"

"Shut up."

Debitto looked momentarily shocked by Road's tone, but then physical exhaustion made him slump, half staggering and half supported by the wall. That much Materialization, and at that frequency, had drained him, and he was too tired to acknowledge the twinge of pain in his chest that flared at Road's harsh words.

He shut down, wrestling his expression into the sort of defeated calmness Allen had seen before the fight, and holstered his gun without any flourish. Even though he sheathed the pistol, Debitto kept a tight grip on the handle as he made his way to the exit of the Ark, as if he were afraid someone would jump him with his back turned. Whether he was intimidated by Road or him, Allen didn't care to find out, a sickening realization settling in his stomach now that he had to deal with Road on his own.

He closed his mind, the way he had learned to when training with the Clansmen, which muffled his mental signature. To any other Noah, he was undetectable, at least in the Dark Matter sense, but he knew Road could still feel the tenor of his mind.

He still felt better, more protected. But when he shifted his weary gaze back to his old teacher, and older still enemy, he was caught off guard by the level of betrayal he saw in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked, like she was blaming him for something. A twinge of a headache bit at his skull, which was sort of nostalgic but mostly annoying.

"Just wondering what's going on," he said. Why _had_ he come here? This was a stupid idea. He was finally free and he had decided to march right into the lion's den as soon as he gained a smidge of power. "I haven't seen you since the war..." he trailed off, hoping it served well enough as an explanation. She gave him an incredulous, almost disgusted look, as if she wanted to say, _Well what the hell am I supposed to say to that?_

They stared in awkward silence at each other. It was one thing for Allen to be here against his will, but if he had shown up on his own accord, air heavy with his newfound Noah powers? It was inexcusable. It was a show of power that challenged Road's own. She lunged at him, with no intention other than wanting to hurt him, to rip off the sacred black skin that she had granted him. He dodged her easily, infuriatingly easily.

"What's wrong with you? What's wrong with everyone?" He closed the distance between them once more. "I was only gone for two weeks! What the hell happened?"

"You were dead, you half-ass." She didn't say it loudly, although her eyes still burned at him. "You got offed by Cross. Same with Jasdero."

_Jasdero?_ Wait...he was _dead?_ That couldn't be why Allen hadn't seen him. How could he have not felt it? Road ignored him, her usual lilting voice flat and grim. The lack of pitch hurt his ears, and he wished she would go back to her musical taunts, condescending though they were.

"We didn't know what the fuck happened to you after the war started. You just disappeared. We were all fighting when the exorcists ganged up on the twins, and then Jasdero kicked the bucket. And then all of a sudden the air gets heavy and your Noah starts freaking out, blowing up demons and exploding exorcists out of the sky."

His eyes widened, he fought the urge to shake his head in denial because he knew that this was all the horrible truth, even if he didn't remember it clearly.

"I was about to see what the hell was wrong with you when you just toppled out of the sky like someone shot you in the back." The chest, actually. Allen grimaced. These weren't events he wanted to remember. "So, like any other freaking normal person, I assumed you were fucking _dead_ and now you—" Allen cut off her tirade, suddenly indignant.

"And why do you think I went crazy, Road? Who was the one who ordered the Level Four to kill Lenalee?" Road looked shocked, like she never expected him to accuse her of anything. And then, typically, she became enraged all over again.

"You lost control over your Noah because of some exorcist _whore_?!"

And then it became evident that Allen, despite all his progress, still couldn't completely control said Noah, and the faint hum in the air that perpetually accompanied him escalated into full-blown cacophony. Road winced at the harrying sound, both loud and piercing, white noise that emanated off the Noah of Music.

It was like Debitto said; it felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room, discordant sounds replacing the air until it was thick in her ears. It didn't debilitate her in any way, but she read the silent threat (or in this case, not so silent) of his show of power loud and clear.

"Are you going to attack me, Allen?" she asked, unmasking her presence so that her own oppressive Noah could be felt, showing that she had fangs too. Noah Clansmen attacking each other was considered taboo- the Earl didn't allow it. Sure, they yelled at each other and threw the occasional punch, but the Noah had surprisingly moral views on attacking one of their own kind. Then again, did he even count as a Noah Clansman?

"Why did you even bother training me? Why did you even bother capturing me? All I did was take out a few Innocence fragments, what possible advantage would I have been to you?" Road's face scrunched up in anger, brows furrowing and lips curling.

"You already had the Memories in you. If I hadn't awakened them, it would've happened anyway." But she seemed like she was trying to convince herself, and Allen pounced at the weakness.

"How do you know? Is that what the Earl said? I am an exorcist, Road! What makes you think I would ever join the Noah Clan?" Something about those words made Road feel like she just got slapped, and her tolerance broke, anger boiling over.

"Because you're the Earl's musician!" Her shout cut through the air, echoing painfully throughout the Arc.

Never, until now, had he seen her so unstable. So untouched by sanity.

The _Earl's_ musician?

She seemed so sure of herself, sure of this _fact_, despite being somewhat unhinged. Allen stood straighter, towering over her in some semblance of control.

"I am the _Noah _of Music," he growled. "I am the _Noah's_ musician. We're descendants of _him_. Aren't we supposed to be royalty, Road?" He swept his arm across both of them, throwing her long-ago words in her face. "If we are, why do you follow the Earl like some kind of lapdog?" She was the First Noah, the most powerful. All other Clansmen could be under her command, yet she unfalteringly, almost blindly, followed the Millennium Earl. She snapped back, full of rage.

"Because he's the only one worth following!" she shrieked. "Humans are just greedy, stupid monsters, and demons are just the result of humans more stupid than the rest!" She had stepped up to him, so close he could see the veins in her irises and feel hot breath on his neck. But wasn't she human? He smiled, knowingly, but hesitantly.

"But you _are_ human," he said, nervously pressing his fingertips above her beating heart. He felt it speed up, the way his had when she cradled his head to her chest when they had first met. "Remember?"

"Don't _touch _me!" She lashed out at him with raw energy, ripping the sturdy fabric of his coat and shirt, but not the skin beneath. He was too powerful to be injured that easily. It came as a pleasant realization. He was _strong_ now. He was united with the Fourteenth Noah.

"That's odd," he hissed. "Considering how much you seem to crave _my touch_." Where he had gotten this courage was beyond him, but he decided to work with it while he could. "Or were you just jealous of Lenalee?" Acid crept into his voice. "Is that why you killed her?" She blasted him with her powers, and his vision went black, but her illusion of blindness didn't stop him.

"Why did you kill her, Road? She wasn't the Heart! I still have my Innocence!" He wasn't even sure she could hear him, but he shouted into the darkness anyway. Every chip on his shoulder or thorn in his side, he yelled at the top of his lungs. All his worry, pain, anger, _fear_. Her illusion shattered, but not because of him—not directly.

Road was in complete disarray, an expression of crazed fury on her face. Again, he was reminded of how she looked underneath her flawless, charcoal skin- black, twisted, ugly. Of course, he looked the same, if injured grievously enough.

"Shut up, Allen!"

"Why do you even want me here? The Earl didn't send you after me this time, I'm not a prisoner of this place anymore!" Every word that passed his lips seemed to anger the Noah of Dreams even more. He was surprised she could even get out her strangled, hate-filled response.

"Who said I _wanted _you here? You came on your own, so _get the fuck out_." All the doors in the Arc swung open, battered on their hinges by a torrential wind that suddenly swept through the halls. Something about her absolute loss of control brought him to ground again, calmed him. He had come here for a purpose, and it wasn't to fight to the death with Road, no matter how old an enemy she was.

"Actually," he said levelly. His throat was raw from yelling. "I came to access the Arc. I need to operate the doors to find Innocence." Road quieted, and when she answered her voice was neutral, carefully controlled, although he could still see the anger that blazed in her.

"You want to harvest Innocence?"

He frowned. "No, I'm collecting Innocence. I'm fulfilling my duty as an exorcist." Her lips twisted into a growl.

"You're not an exorcist," she said, contempt deepening her voice. He opened his mouth to protest, but he only got out a half-breath before she cut him off, riled up again. "Why do you still want to follow them? Live for them? They wanted to hack off your Innocence!"

He jerked, eyes widening.

"You knew about that?"

All this time, he had though that the Noah Clansmen had, mercifully, forgotten him, or at least decided he was too troublesome to worry about. If they had known his location, he was sure they would have stormed the Dark Order tower to capture him again. But apparently Road had known. _And she hadn't rescued him._

What was he thinking? He didn't want to be rescued! He had been home, finally, after months of imprisonment and torture. Yet, the Dark Order hadn't welcomed him back. They had been prepared to kill him. And no one made a move to save him. Not that he needed to be saved, evidently, but to know that Road was aware of his approaching execution and that she did _nothing_...He cut off his train of thought. He didn't come to dwell on his twisted, messy past. He was sick of it.

"I'm using the Arc," he said gruffly, as if he were entitled, and he was surprised when Road didn't challenge him. "I'm an exorcist. I exist to serve humans and demons, to save Innocence. We'll fight any one who gets in our way." he finished, using the Dark Order plural in his threat.

And then he spun, graceful and deadly, as Road had seen him do countless times when he stormed off to sulk or seethe or train during his months of imprisonment, through the nearest Arc door. The door shut with a slam that reverberated through the walls of the Arc.

Neither of them acknowledged that, in that instance, when he declared his allegiance to the Dark Order, Allen had never sounded more like a member of the Noah Clan.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Man is it hard to get back into the swing of things. I hope this didn't suck too bad, but lack of recent updates have left my organization of events and ideas pretty much shot.

I could spend about a paragraph and a half apologizing to you wonderful, wonderful people for not updating for so long, but I'll spare you the excess reading. Let's just pretend it didn't take 2 months for me to update, eh?

Please review~


	12. Chapter 12

He plunged into blackness, a blackness so empty he couldn't feel which way he was falling. If not for the freezing air streaking past, or his hair battering his cheeks in the torrent, he might as well have been dead. The door snapped open, gushing cold air and the smell of earth, much more apparent after the sterility of the Ark. Daylight rushed in and surrounded him. Allen dropped from the sky, headed face-first for the pavement in the town below him.

_Shit._

The wind whistled pretty verses in his ears and he opened his eyes wide so they would dry out and numb, like he wished his heart would.

_Damn it, Road._

The Fourteenth hummed in his head, both comforting and chastising. The notes soothed his headache and warmed his skin. It coated his throat like a balm that eased the hoarseness from his verbal fight with Road. Allen sighed a 'thank you' to his Noah. Even with a slight roughness in his throat, Allen could sing perfectly fine without the Fourteenth's medicinal song. He appreciated the gesture anyway.

The ground approached rapidly, and a yard away from impact, Allen flipped in the air with practiced ease, landing nimbly feet-first into a sprint. It was a move he learned from watching Debitto, and it proved to be much more effective than absorbing the impact of a twenty-thousand foot drop.

He set a mild pace, faster than the human eye cared to track, low to the ground so he could turn easily in the densely packed city. If he had to guess, the fragment was probably still hidden, not yet detected by Finders and not yet sought after by demons. What did Finders look for exactly, when they searched out Innocence? He knew they received tip-offs from allies of the Order and the Church, and occasionally a Marshall would buy and trade information whenever there were rumors—but no apparent signs of—a fragment.

And what _were_ the signs? Allen could only go off of the tried and true 'strange occurrences' method, and he didn't really want to scurry around the city waiting for something paranormal to happen. If only he had a golem! They had built-in sensors, not powerful, but strong enough to pick up nearby signals. Damn it, why had he left Timcanpy with that modified demon?

He sighed defeatedly. It was obvious that this would require preparation and thought, and he was about to head back to the Ark when he felt a shift in the air. It felt like a space, empty moments before, had suddenly filled with an audible presence. Buzzing.

_Demons_, his mind supplied. Nothing made the air vibrate like that except demons- and maybe the Noah. He focused in on the area he felt the disturbance. Controlling demons had never been his forte as a Noah Clansmen, being so opposed to the process to begin with, but he vaguely recalled compelling the demons in the House to attack the Earl in a fit of rage, and called out: _Come here. _

He felt the spaces in the air jolt and just barely resist. They must have been acting under another's orders to refuse a direct command, and Allen called again, more firmly: _Come here. _

The air shifted again and he felt them come acquiescingly. Confirming the feeling, he saw several dark shapes rise above the horizon, flying unevenly towards him. As they neared him, he immediately felt the tell-tale hum of Innocence and realized, with some shock, how unfamiliar it now felt. When was the last time he had used his Innocence arm? When was the last time he had even been in his white form? The concept of saving enslaved demons' souls, fighting against Dark Matter with a released Crown Clown, sharing the triumph with his comrades—it all felt foreign to him.

The revelation came unwanted, yet annoyingly resolute. What had happened to him? God! He hadn't even thought of the Millennium Earl in weeks—wasn't it his _sworn_ duty to defeat him? Wasn't he the Destroyer of Time? Lately his biggest enemies had been, ironically, the Noah Clansmen _and _the Dark Order. Both sides had wanted him dead at some point and were none too pleased with him currently.

But he would fix that, he assured himself. The demons, Level Twos, were now descending into the street he was in, and if they noticed his near-manic distress, they remained silent. Their stiffness was most likely out of fear rather than respect or obedience, but Allen was too tense to care at this point. A wave of satisfaction and relief came over him at the sight of an Innocence fragment clutched in the claws of one of the demons.

"Please," he said. The demons looked astonished that he was actually addressing them vocally, and with _Please_ nonetheless. "Would you give me that fragment?" The hulking creatures stood awkwardly in the street, thankfully obstructed from public view by the shadows of the buildings around them, apparently perplexed by his request. Not only was this Noah's request strange, but it was a _request. _A request! Not an order. The Level Two holding the fragment nearly handed it to Allen out of sheer confusion, but instinctive suspicion made it hold back.

"But Lulubell-sama—"

"Please," Allen said again. The demons noticed the change in his voice immediately, but instead of reacting with alarm, they were soothed, as if put under a spell. His voice was so lulling, so dulcet, a few demons sagged in contentment. The demon with the Innocence handed the fragment to Allen with surprising tenderness.

_The fiercest warriors lay down their swords in the middle of battle...Savage beasts lay spellbound at his feet... _Allen remembered the words from the ancient myth, startled. One word. One word had completely subdued a squad of demons. The Fourteenth stirred within him, and for the first time since synchronizing with his Innocence, Allen felt truly powerful.

"Thank you," he said, in his normal voice. The effect was instantaneous, and the demons were once more alert, glancing around as they came out of their stupor. Regarding him with less suspicion and more wary respect, the demons soared upwards once more, continuing on whatever path Lulubell had ordered them to take. Allen palmed the fragment and smirked, imagining the Noah of Lust's face when she saw that the fragment the demons had harvested for her was gone. He burst up into the sky as well, heading toward the door to the Ark.

This was it...Allen would deliver his first fragment to the Dark Order since he was captured nearly a year ago, his first duty in returning as an exorcist. His chest swelled in anticipation.

He reached for the door to the Ark, and turned the knob.

* * *

When he entered the Ark, she was there. Leaning on the wall—the wall directly opposite the door he had entered hours before—her head tilted slightly in bemusement, oddly subdued. Although he hadn't expected her, he was unsurprised by her presence. Memories of their fight came flooding back to him and he shut down all emotion, falling into the old role of a rebellious prisoner.

He schooled his features into careful indifference. Her face was blank.

She could have been a lifeless doll, an empty shell, except for the underlying cynicism and superiority that exuded from her wild spikes of hair, her lithe frame, her hard eyes. A dark, unconscious part of him wanted to call out to her. _  
_

_Sister_.

"Road."

Her eyes had been open since he opened the door, but as he spoke, he felt her vision sharpen, as if she was just now seeing him. She didn't say his name. He reached into his coat pocket and grasped the Innocence fragment, holding out his hand so she could see the green that shone through his fingers. _You see? I have the Innocence_. No change in her expression.

"Which door leads to the Dark Order?" he asked, voice light and withdrawn. He already knew which door it was, but he wanted her to know that the Innocence was not for her, that he was undeniably an exorcist, never to be an ally. He tried to ask in the most bored tone possible, to mimic her lackadaisical posture.

"Innocence, huh?" The hated word rolled off her tongue, serene and unconcerned. Allen nodded stiffly. He was still holding out the Innocence, as if waiting for her to take it, and he clenched his fingers around it, afraid she would.

They stood still, in silence, each focused on the other. Allen suspected that Road was somewhere far away, completely immersed in one of her daydreams, but her eyes stayed locked on his, unwavering.

Oddly, he was content like this, with no conflict, no animosities. There was no Clan, no Order. No Earl, or God, or Innocence. The world seemed suspended as they stood across from each other, and Allen felt that he could have gone on like that forever, with no bitter choices to make, no burdens hanging over him, if not for the green light that danced in his palm.

He curled his fingers around the fragment, trapping the light so it no longer shone through, and broke his gaze with Road. At the same time, he turned, ensuring no further contact would be made between them, and started in the direction of the Dark Order. Behind him, he heard her murmur, "I see."

"Yes," he said. He strode purposely down the halls, widening the distance between them. They were finally at an understanding. No more confusion as to whose side each of them were on, no misunderstandings of loyalty.

Harvester of Innocence. Savior of Innocence.

Noah. Exorcist.

_

* * *

_  
Allen shook himself, hoping to soothe his nerves. _Okay, you did it. No one tried to kill you._

He had dropped the fragment, sealed in one of the Finders' packs left outside the Tower, near the entrance to Dark Order Headquarters. He didn't dare get so close as to trigger the golem-sensors that alerted the team of Order members when someone was near—not in his black form and not when he wasn't sure they didn't still want to extract his Innocence.

The event was sort of anticlimactic; the Innocence just sat on the ground in its protective case and Allen knew it would be a long while before it was discovered. The members would be far too busy attempting to coax Komui into some work and doing work themselves to notice the fragment, and it would probably take until a team of Finders or a platoon of exorcists returned or set out from the Tower.

Not too keen on waiting around for the said event, Allen grudgingly returned to the Ark, wondering what he should do next.

Obviously the Order wouldn't realize the fragment was from him, and Allen didn't expect them to. But he had to do _something_ to earn acceptance among the ranks of the Order. He didn't need titles like Crowned Clown, or Marshall, or Point-Breaker, or Destroyer of Time. He just wanted to be an exorcist. Loyal and determined and unwavering in resolve: everything he had been before being changed into a Noah. But first, he needed to reunite with the Dark Order.

When he re-entered the Ark, he found it to be deserted. Road was gone. He immediately went to the door nearest to him where he felt the irresistible pull of an Innocence fragment and opened it. He bravely stepped in, swallowed by the blackness, and appeared none too soon on the other side, falling towards the city below him.

He had been here before, once on a mission with Lavi and Toma, and had known it to be a Level One hotspot back when he first joined the Dark Order. And where there were demons, there were exorcists.

He didn't exactly know how to go about making contact with members of the Dark Order—What if they were still searching for him? Did they still want to extract his Innocence? But if he was going to pursue his old duties as an exorcist, he needed to deliver Innocence fragments like any other member. He had already caught scent of the fragment, its siren song so strong he had felt it through the Ark, but he didn't want to risk getting caught up in a battle with an exorcist platoon. His face was already well-known as a harvester, and any confrontation would surely result in some catastrophic misunderstanding that would probably end up getting someone killed. He considered changing to his white form, but decided against it.

_If an exorcist platoon is already there, I won't get involved in it_.

He sped around corridors, darted through shadows. If not for the shock of white hair that shrouded his _stigmata_, he would have been entirely invisible in the blackness. Bats flew and scattered when he passed, sent into a panic by his near-silent passing. He listened to their echolocation and he sighed happily at the sanguine tune. He was allowed a few moments of peace- his first in far too long. But then his inhuman sense of hearing picked up noises in the distance. Trace sounds of...

...moaning, hums, and fainter still...

"_Innocence, activate!_"

Demons. Exorcists. Judging from the pitch and echo...Level Twos, about ten miles southeast. It was impossible to tell how many of them there were, but Allen already knew that packs of Level Twos traveled in pairs during reconnaissance, or quartets when harvesting Innocence. And if there was an exorcist platoon attacking, it was safe to bet that Innocence was somehow involved. Another moan pricked his ears, louder this time. He pulled his gloves tight. _Finally_.

He rolled onto the balls of his feet, preparing to streak off towards the area the sounds were coming from, when the Fourteenth spoke.

_Allen._

It was sharp and stung his ears_. What was wrong?_

Oh, hadn't he just decided that he wouldn't get involved if exorcists were attacking? He grit his teeth, glancing around anxiously. The Fourteenth murmured disapprovingly at his indecisiveness. Townspeople were beginning to take notice of him, suspicious of the black stranger frozen in the street. Allen couldn't stand here forever.

_Is it worth it? _He could be captured by the Dark Order, or discovered by the House of the Earl, or injure an exorcist. Joining the battle would almost certainly backfire. More moans rose in the air. Now Allen could hear the clash of battle, feel the hum of Innocence and the shiver of explosions under his feet. He wondered if any of the demons could fly- they were tricky up in the air, especially the ones who could fly well. They could rocket forward at the speed of sound, making hairpin turns and flips at the last second, as fast as any exorcist, some as fast as...

_Lenalee._

No. He had valuable experience, essential information. At this period of time, the Dark Order needed him more than anything. Ignoring the Fourteenth's cursing and scolding, Allen vaulted from the ground, rising above the city skyline until he could see in the distance, just barely, the shimmer of the Dark Order emblem.

* * *

The demons were strong. The most the exorcist had ever fought were three at a time, and even then they were only Level Ones. Now there were eight of them, all Level Twos, and he prayed to God that a Level Three wouldn't show up or evolve. His comrades were both fighting, Innocences blazing and scything through the air.

How long until the first casualty struck? On whose side would the first member fall?

He blocked a particularly vicious attack from the demon he was fighting with the solid plane of his Innocence. Even though his shield had just saved him from being impaled, the force of the attack drove him back at least ten yards before he dug his heels into the gravel, arching backwards and heaving against the shield as he frantically tried to drive the Level Two back. The beetle-like demon thrashed against the wall of his Innocence, using its many steel legs to batter against it until it was almost on top of the shield. The exorcist was pressed under it, bearing the full weight of the Earl's metal death contraption, his legs shuddering with the physical effort.

He was going to die if he eased his stance even the slightest, and he was going to die if he kept this up as well. The demon scrabbled against the shield and got another leg up. It felt like the weight doubled. A keen of desperation sounded in the back of his throat as he felt as if he was about to snap in half under the pressure.

In one nauseating instant, the pressure became so total, so unbearable, that his eyes rolled back in his head and the exorcist collapsed, waiting for the sting of death. But then he saw that the demon had been smashed against his Innocence, a battle-axe driven in its spine. The axe blade crumpled the steel armor of the Level Two, and it arched backwards in pain, allowing him to roll from under the shield. The other exorcist yanked the axe out of the dented steel, drew back, and then buried the axe into the neck of the demon, the blade's heft increased tenfold by the blazing green aura of Innocence.

This time, the attack pierced through the demon's armor and it let out a shrill scream. Instead of drawing back for another swing, the exorcist bore down on the axe haft, driving the blade further in, and snarled:

"_Innocence: execute_."

There was a deafening blast and the exorcists were thrown backwards, scattered with bits of dirt and stone. With the squeal of tearing metal, the Level Two's armored skull ripped from its neck and fell forward. The three-ton head hit the ground with a hollow thud and blackpurple sparks rushed out from the body of the demon. The exorcists watched the Dark energy stream out and up into the sky where it seemed to be sucked up, dissipating. The exorcist turned to his comrade, who was sheathing his axe in a strap on his back.

"Thank you..." he said, bewildered. He still couldn't believe he was alive. The other exorcist grinned, amused at his obvious inexperience. _He _had defeated his demon easily enough.

"Oi!" The exorcists' heads snapped up at the voice of their leader. The commander of their platoon was still fighting the remaining Level Twos, who had teamed up and converged around him. The two exorcists scrambled with their weapons to aid him, but it proved unnecessary as the deadly flourish of the exorcist's blade finished the demons in one Innocence-infused strike. The two platoon members were unsurprised—their commander was more than capable of disposing of numerous demons at a time—and they expected that he was more furious at their lack of attentiveness than their lack of assistance.

"Quit kidding around. We have a mission," the exorcist growled, sheathing his sword. The other exorcists apologized profusely, cowed by his authority and prowess even if he was no longer holding his blade.

"Sorry, sorry, it'll never happen again. The kid was in trouble and I went and—"

"Yeah! I was getting beat- if he hadn't saved me I would have—"

"We're so sorry Kanda-san, we-"

"Just shut up!" The exorcists promptly did so, looking more frightened of him than they were of the horde of demons they had just fought. Kanda was on the verge of telling the two that he _wasn't_ going to kill them and to calm the fuck down, but he didn't condone incompetence. Besides, it was better if they were on their guard; he felt like something dangerous was still out there.

This city had always had high demon activity. It was more of a chore than a mission to Kanda whenever he was assigned to purge the area of its Innocence-harvesting inhabitants. Today, Komui had sent two "adequate" exorcists to accompany him, assuring him that it would speed up the process so that Kanda could attend to a more important mission in the afternoon. Kanda itched to get the mission over with and return to the Tower, but something held him back.

The air was too dense here, thickened with the presence of something dark, untrustworthy. Kanda would have written it off as a demon presence, but seeing as he had already taken care of all the ones in the vicinity...

A body hurtled through the sky, dropping onto the pavement in the middle of the exorcists. Kanda's sword was already drawn, ready to slay whatever creature that landed there stupid enough to reveal itself in front of a platoon exorcists. But the dark shape was already gone, running on what was decidedly two legs—not a demon. Unless it was a Level Three?

Kanda raced after it, activating Mugen with a drag of his fingers and sending his illusioned hell-beasts after the retreating figure.

The First Illusion insects flew at its prey with their mouths open and shrieking. The shadow-creature evaded them. At this point Kanda was running full-out with his blade poised for attack. No demon short of Level Three could outpace his First Illusion, or be agile enough to dodge it. He narrowed his eyes and gripped his blade with new fervor. This wasn't a demon.

_Noah_.

"Second Illusion, activate," he growled. Mugen's dual blades appeared in his hands and Kanda felt a kick of adrenaline, either from his Innocence activation or the prospect of fighting a Noah, which doubled his speed. How _dare_ the Noah appear here...This city was as crowded with exorcists as it was with demons. Did they come to pick a fight?

Kanda could see no reason for the Noah to come here, with no trace of an Innocence fragment, other than to make contact with exorcists. Fine. If they wanted to fight, he would give them a fight.

"Two Sword Illusion." A band of light and raw power circled around him, connecting the two blades.

_Which one is it_, Kanda wondered. Not Skinn...that one, he killed long ago. _Was it the curly-haired one? The one who was always smoking?_ It would be a bastard to fight him, melting through walls and floors all the time. Or was it one of the women- Road or Lulubell?_ It couldn't be the twins, unless they separated_. Kanda lunged forward, gaining on his prey. Two sword-lengths away...So close...

_But what if it was_...

One step away...

_No. It can't be him_..._There's no way this dark _thing_ is moyashi._

Half a step...Right on top of him. He drew Mugen back, readying his strike even as the figure whirled around and his disbelieving eyes caught sight of unmistakable white hair.

"Kanda, stop!"

"_Eight Flowers Praying Mantis!_" His attack blasted outwards, illuminating the entire square with a blinding octet of light that shot towards its target. In those streaks of raw power, Kanda poured every ounce of killing intent he could muster, and watched, somewhat horrified, as they lanced through the chest of Allen Walker. The outline of a flower burned into his chest, and flared once—like dying embers—bright green that reflected off of shocked blue eyes.

_Blue?_

Not yellow...Not red...?

"_Allen!_" He rushed forward, mindless, visualizing the beansprout crumpled and broken—just a pale-skinned idiot of a kid too weak to be an exorcist. _Damn it, moyashi, you_...

Kanda almost ran into him. He actually jerked back his blades, causing him to stumble backwards and almost fall. The rare act of clumsiness made the person across him raise his white brows, standing tall and unscathed as he appraised the dark-haired exorcist. Only the flower-shaped singe on Allen's jacket convinced Kanda that he actually _had_ attacked and didn't just randomly lunge, screaming Moyashi's name.

Fury boiled up inside him, mixed with humiliation and disgust. How Allen had managed to dodge his attack, when it _clearly_ hit him point-blank, was the last of his questions. No. Kanda seethed and brandished Mugen once more. How was it that Allen Walker could stand—unafraid, _unconcerned_—as he faced a thoroughly incensed Kanda -his superior by all exorcist standards. How was it that he practically reeked of power (not an unusual prospect for the fully synchronized, Point-Breaker exorcist) but power that made Kanda's skin crawl and made his Innocence hiss and shudder in his grip -_Dark_ power. His expression was incomprehensible. For the first time, Allen Walker seemed more stoical than the heartless Kanda Yu.

Kanda didn't know what to do, tongue-tied and debilitated by his own flood of rage.

"Umm..." Kanda's head snapped up to meet Allen's eyes, which were traitorously yellow. His voice was different..."Where's the Innocence?"

This statement, if possible, infuriated Kanda even more, to the point where it felt as if all his blood vessels might burst. Allen eyes flared—_finally, a reaction of fear_—as he realized it was not the wisest thing he could have said upon meeting with an exorcist for the first time since the war. He had only mentioned Innocence because of the strong scent of it that brought him here in the first place, and he now realized that it was probably Kanda's that had sung to him through the Ark. He held up his hands in a peace-making gesture, the same as when he met Debitto in the Ark.

"Kanda—" He cut off, ready for the exorcist to lunge and attack. But the swordsman was frozen, staring at him in a mixture of indignation and shock. _Okay_. How to convey the entire situation in a way that didn't make an exorcist—who had never liked him to begin with—not cut him down where he stood?

He sighed. "Kanda..." And there it was, the flash of movement. Allen tensed for Kanda's attack. The tail of Kanda's exorcist cloak swirled up in the air as he spun and turned on his heel, sheathing Mugen and walking away. The sword slid to the bottom of its scabbard with a _ting_ of finality. Allen gaped. Of all things, he hadn't expected Kanda to _retreat_.

"Wait! What are you—"

"If I see you again," Kanda spat. He paused and visibly trembled in barely restrained rage. "If I see you again, I'll kill you. I'll gut you where you stand." Allen didn't ask why he didn't just do it now, too taken aback by the deadly promise of Kanda's words, and could only stare in shock as Kanda stormed away.

"But..." he said dejectedly. But it was too late. Kanda was already out of earshot.

Gone.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm...

Not sure how I feel about this one, but anyway: here's a nice long chapter! I can't thank you readers enough for all the reviews and alerts and faves. As of now, I'm a bit brain-dead after writing through most of yesterday, and my judge of a suitable chapter is a somewhat skewed. Please review, comment, critique...and happy holidays!


	13. Chapter 13

He stood in quiet shock, his hand still outstretched and fingers trembling as they grasped at nothing but air. So many things he could have done—could have said—instead. In truth, he hadn't recognized the feel of Kanda's Innocence. As many times as that sword had been raised against him in mock threat, danced beside him during their innumerable missions, he hadn't felt even a hint of familiarity with Mugen. When he felt the Innocence in the Arc, he'd only noticed the location and amount of power. Like he was some kind of machine.

His mouth felt dry, his throat full. It was difficult to breathe. Allen stared at the deserted street where Kanda had disappeared. "But…"

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. How could this be happening? Finally, finally, finally he had been ready to come home. He had done everything: cut the last of his ties with the Noah, delivered an Innocence fragment to the Order. And the last task…to reunite with the exorcists…

_If I see you again, I'll kill you. I'll gut you where you stand_.

Kanda had never liked him, may have, at times, even despised him. But even then, Kanda had…Back then…

_"Not bad, moyashi," _he had said, his eyes wry as he flashed Allen a grudging smile. They were beaten down, exorcist coats torn to shreds and hanging limp on their bruised and broken frames. Enemies filled every line of their vision. Edo was swarming with demons. It was a lost battle before they'd even started fighting.

And yet they fought—against the Noah and the Earl and the inconceivably enormous number of demons, all fused into towering demon-giants. They fought like they hadn't been beaten bloody, like their allies hadn't been slain. Like they had some semblance of a chance at winning. And in that moment, united by the hopeless pursuit of destroying the Earl, Kanda had glanced through an unswollen eye and nodded at Allen.

_"Not bad at all."_

In that brief moment, Kanda had shown him the barest acknowledgement. A hint of respect. How could he go from that to…distrust, contempt, _hate_? Allen had survived losing the respect of Lavi, Komui, all his friends at the Dark Order, but losing that respect from Kanda dealt the finishing blow to his resolve.

He wasn't aware he had fallen to his knees until he was staring at his hands, the only support left preventing him from falling to the pavement. Those black hands, the skin deceptively smooth—just a veneer of the Noah invincibility that lay beneath. It all came down to that: that forsaken charcoal-colored skin. It was Allen's own decision to remain with the Noah that had made him lose the respect of his comrades. It was his unintentional, thoughtless betrayal that solidified his expulsion from the ranks of the Dark Order.

His fault. All his fault. No matter what he did now, he was never going to be welcomed back. Not after this…

Kanda's eyes, murderous as he had ever seen them, flashed in his mind. His final chance, and he had lost it.

_Just surprise attack the Noah during the war. _

_Just deliver fragments to the Order through the Arc. _

_Just make contact with the exorcists._

_Just keep hoping. Keep hoping_…But he couldn't recover from this. His steady stream of optimism and plans and determination had run dry.

"_DAMN IT!_"

* * *

Road Kamelot was the First—the leader—the stronghold. Where all other Clansmen wrought death, pain, pleasure, and wrath in a chaotic hurricane that swept the Earth, Road was the calm at its center, deadly in a different way. She was omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, second only to the Earl, and as such, she was the only one other than him who could control the Arc.

While the Earl dominated the Earth and enslaved humans with his manufactured demons, Road reigned over _her_ kingdom, the Arc. She knew every door, every passage, every crack in its whitewash walls. And so it did not go unnoticed when a door fell open in one of the southern hallways and Road experienced the unfamiliar sensation of someone coming _into_ the Arc.

Who could access the doors without being assigned a mission, she wondered, or without her approval? The distressed aura could belong to no other than the Fourteenth, Allen, but that would imply that he could control the Arc too… She huffed dismissively, disregarding the notion for now. A more pressing question than authority complications with the Fourteenth had come to mind: _What the hell is he doing here?_

She inwardly seethed. What was wrong with this guy? He had _just_ finished acting all pompous and making out like he was done with her and the Noah, basically telling her to shove it and go screw herself, _denying_ her the Innocence he so teasingly waved in her face. Frolicking off to play savior and hero for the exorcists...

And now he was bursting back in, radiating with intense suffering and _grief_. She didn't know what to make of it.

Right now though, for reasons she couldn't fathom—and didn't dare try to—she needed to go soothe him, if only to shut him up so his depression didn't destabilize the Arc.

Conjuring a set of heart-shaped doors, she stepped through her makeshift portal into the courtyard where Allen had come stumbling in. Instead of the hysteric tirade, however, that she was expecting, she was met with the sight not of a rebellious prisoner or a haughty Fourteenth but of Allen slumped against the wall, head hung over his chest and so still she wondered if he was dead. What a mess.

"Alright, Allen-pon," she said, her lilting voice teasing as she used the Earl's derisive nickname.

"Who was mean to you? Those exorcists?" Allen's head snapped up, surprised yet unconcerned by her presence, an expression of self-loathing so deeply etched into his face it made Road swallow her next taunt.

_Shit_…

Of course Allen wasn't mad or upset with the fucking exor-shits. He wasn't even angry at _her_. Of course not. Right now he hated only himself—for God knew what reason.

She scowled at him as he averted his eyes. Embarrassed that she had seen him in this state, when he so openly detested himself, Allen slid to the ground. He curled up into himself, back against the wall, holding his head in his hands and digging his nails into his straggly white hair. Road nearly snarled with contempt. It was just so _pitiful_.

"You _would_ blame yourself. Idiot. Of course the exorcists rejected you." Allen remained covered by his hands, but he had stiffened slightly, listening to her words. "Look at you," she said. "Deny it or not, you're a full-fledged Noah." She saw his shoulders cease their shuddering and harden in familiar rebellion.

"Oh, don't be stupid. I bet you haven't worn your white form in months. I bet you haven't even _thought _of using your Innocence to oppose the Noah Clan or the Earl. Be honest with yourself, Allen." she sneered. Again his shoulders sagged in a defeat far beyond depression. He looked destroyed.

She grimaced and looked at the beaten-down Noah in front of her, the one who had given the Earl so much trouble in the beginning, who held so much potential power that the Earl had decided not to kill him. Where was he now?

Allen, who had always been on the shorter side, looked unnaturally tall due to his bony slimness. Road wondered why she hadn't noticed that he'd lost so much weight. Of course, he wasn't using his Innocence anymore, and thus didn't feel the need to consume obscene amounts of food. A bit too skinny, though.

_So he's thin_, she thought to herself, _all Noah are thin_. But that wasn't what bothered her, not completely. His eyes looked huge—disconcertingly yellow—on his angular face. The color clashed with his lank white hair, which looked almost too bright in contrast with his dark skin. She couldn't even see his curse mark anymore, unable to discern the pentagram from the rest of his complexion. Paired with this unfamiliar misery he was exhibiting, Road realized that she didn't _like_ this Allen. Didn't feel a hint of affection—only frustration. And she realized that it was the _Noah_ in him that she didn't like. How ironic.

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. Allen lifted his head and stared forward, unseeing, his eyes dead. The cuff of his pants was raised slightly and Road glimpsed a mauve patch of skin on his leg, a shimmery scar from when she'd burned him with her candles.

She inclined her head decisively and walked over to the wall where he was slumped, turning and sitting next to him without explanation. Allen glanced at her, surprised. He immediately averted his gaze. Would she taunt him? Laugh at him? Maybe torture him for acting so disloyal to the Clan—

Road rested her head on Allen's shoulder.

He froze. His spine jerked straight and his shoulders stiffened in a way that was surely uncomfortable for Road, but she said nothing. He didn't look at her; he couldn't see her face anyway. After what seemed like too many moments of strained silence, Road sighed, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder.

"You're not—" He meant to ask if she was sleeping but she cut him off with a soft _Shhh_. It sounded in his head, not from her lips, and he remembered the night before the war when he heard the same shushing. When he thought Road had infiltrated his mind, sneaking into his cell and kissing him…

_Shhh_.

* * *

"_Yes_, I saw him," Kanda hissed, exasperated. _For the thousandth time._

After explaining over and over in what he hoped was a detached voice, he had finally given up acting unfazed and told Komui and the team of Order members debriefing him that Allen was still alive—_YES _he had seen him, _YES _he had fought him—still a Noah, and clearly a traitor. Looking back, Kanda wished he had just taken care of the beansprout right there and then. His fingers itched to take Mugen and destroy Allen and that imperious air that he'd had when confronted by his Eight Flowers Praying Mantis, which Kanda was certain he _must _have dodged because there was no way he could have survived a direct hit.

"Are you _sure_ it was Allen?" Komui asked again, expression doubtful. "He didn't leave a trace in his cell. It was like he disappeared into thin—"

"Yes, goddammit, I'm sure it was him." Sensing Kanda was at the end of his already limited patience, Komui assumed an all-business air and nodded grimly.

"Alright then," he said. Kanda glanced up at him, surprised at his serious tone. Komui motioned for some papers and his mug of coffee, and then cleared his voice authoritatively, although everyone was already rapt and alert because the news concerned the white-haired exorcist-turned-Noah. "Allen Walker is now Kill On Sight. If it's possible to imprison him—bring him in for questioning—do so."

The science and research department members immediately acted, shuffling for papers and typing things hurriedly, recognizing that this was not just some request from work-dodging Komui but an official order from the Supervisor of the Dark Order.

Attention all exorcists and Finders: Allen Walker is Kill On Sight.

Kanda raised brow at the sudden flurry of movement in the debriefing room at Komui's uncharacteristic command. While he was definitely pissed of at the beansprout and believed that the traitor should be punished, he couldn't help but blanch at the handling of the situation. Very drastic—especially coming from that idiot Komui.

"Now," Komui said, his voice losing the bit of graveness with which he had issued the order, taking on the obnoxious pitch that was his trademark. "I have another mission for you, Kanda. Don't give me that look," he said when Kanda curled his lip in annoyance. "You won't be going with Finders this time.

"I want you and three other exorcists of your choosing to head to the Tulac Plains to the village there. There have been odd disturbances detected and I want you and your platoon to find the Innocence that's triggering it." Kanda raised his brows, taken aback.

Normally if there were signs of paranormal activity, an exorcist team was dispatched to find out _if_ Innocence was causing it, and to recover it if that was the case. But Komui spoke as if he already knew Innocence was the trigger—and wanted Kanda to retrieve it.

"This is an important mission, Kanda," Komui said, confirming Kanda's suspicions that this wasn't an ordinary Innocence retrieval. His voice took on a serious tone again. "Choose exorcists that you can trust in battle—Seniors, strong Juniors. Bringing ones with Crystal-type would be smart. And don't tell anyone else about your mission. This is confidential, Kanda."

"What exactly am I looking for?" Kanda asked. Obviously this wasn't just a regular Innocence fragment…

Komui pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The lenses turned opaque in the light and Kanda was unable to read his expression as he answered in a humorless voice.

"Your mission is to retrieve the Heart."

* * *

Allen wasn't aware that he'd been asleep until he opened his eyes and saw the bright, sterile blue of the artificial sky in the Arc. He was laying on floor, back against the cool tiles, feeling more rested and relaxed than ever before. Sitting up, he stretched his stiff muscles and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. How exactly had he come to be passed out in the middle of the Arc?

A jaw-splitting yawn escaped his lips and Allen arched his back, trying to regain a sense of awareness about him. What _time_ was it? How long had he been sleeping here? Glancing around, as if his surroundings might give him some clue as to what the hell he should be doing, he absentmindedly scratched his chest and noticed, uneasily, that something felt…different.

Finally his memories came back to him; Kanda's deadly proclamation of a swift death by Mugen if he ever saw him again, his failure to rejoin the exorcists, and Road's bizarre actions.

Road's actions...

_Now_ he realized what the difference was, after brushing his fingertips across his chest more thoroughly, and he unbuttoned his shirt hastily to confirm what couldn't possibly be true.

The skin of his chest was dark as it ever was, hairless and smooth except for the bullet-shaped scar in the middle of his torso from when he was shot with Judgment. But what startled him was the absence of the smaller raised scars that used to adorn his chest.

The numerous lash marks across his back and chest—mementos from Road's tortures—were gone.

After examining his legs, he realized the ugly, blotchy burns were gone too. All of the evidence of Road's torture, which he used to wear like a scarlet letter, had vanished. How was that possible?

_Road_, his mind supplied. She had done it, taken the marks away. It couldn't have been anyone else. But why…? Allen shook his head, dumbfounded.

Road had put him to sleep, he realized, remembering her soothing voice whispering 'Shhh' inside his mind, cradling his head in her arms when his eyelids started to droop. He remembered her fingers smoothing his hair back from his face, tracing the pattern of lines over his left eye, barely discernable from the rest his skin. And evidently she had healed him too.

Why would someone who took such pleasure in torturing him, and such amusement as he bore the scars of it, be so willing to erase all of the traces? She had done it to comfort him of course, alleviate the pain that he'd been in, but the point was that she hadn't _needed _to.

She _chose_ to ease his worries, calm his own fury at himself, console him. It freaked him out, to be honest, and he spent the next few moments frantically checking himself over, expecting maybe a missing limb or some bloody gash as replacement for healing his scars. But Road had done nothing but make his skin smooth and perfect again, apparently (except the bullet wound, which she hadn't given him).

Allen blinked. He felt…reinvigorated, almost. Like maybe there _was_ still hope and he hadn't royally screwed things up. Road had fixed him, yes, but she'd also let him sleep, something he hadn't done in a long while.

Because he was still learning to synchronize with the Fourteenth, his nights were spent meditating, harmonizing, learning how to manipulate notes and pitches and weave melodies through the air. He hadn't slept in—God, at least a few weeks, and if not for his constant inhabitance of his black form he surely wouldn't have survived.

Experimentally, Allen tried changing into his white form, imagining the dark pigment of his skin receding, as if soaked into his skin, revealing the true pale hue he was born with and the knife tattoos of his Innocence—

A jolt ripped through him and he sank to his knees, a cold sweat breaking across his forehead. His left arm twitched spasmodically and Allen had the distinct feeling that his Innocence was somehow…enraged. Abandoning the attempt, Allen sank back into his black form, surmising that while he felt better, he wasn't anywhere near top condition. Crown Clown had been ignored for far too long, shoved to the corner of his mind when the Fourteenth had presented himself to Allen, and he suspected that it would take some time before his Innocence was fully in tune with him again.

Allen got to his feet, standing and straightening, and fell into a few practice stances, lashing out with his fists and sweeping the air with his kicks. He was a little rusty, but not terribly so, and as he worked his newly rested muscles, Allen couldn't help but feel a little optimistic. He ran through all his practice moves, a wary smile on his lips, as if he were afraid someone would jump out from behind a corner and scold him for feeling happy.

The mild training and sleep he'd had definitely worked to put him in a better mood, but Allen had to admit to himself that the main reason for his newfound hopefulness was largely due to Road. Unable to smoother a minor bout of affection for the petite First Noah, he consoled himself by reminding himself that the majority of time Road was a blood-and-candy-obsessed sadist who stole him from his home and turned him into a Noah.

Right—he only appreciated her abnormal act of kindness. It wasn't like he was actually fond of her or anything. Right?

He walked to an Arc door, turned the knob, and stepped into the swirling black unknown.

* * *

"Road," said a deep voice. "Child." Road turned over on the plush sofa to face the fireplace. The fire crackled softly, like the contented purr of a cat, and Road watched the flames dance along the flagstones of the chimney. In the rocking-chair where Tyki liked to smoke his cigarettes sat the Millennium Earl.

"Yes Millennie?" The Earl grinned at his nickname.

"Allen-pon has just left the Arc," he said, knowing that Road already knew. He was the conversational sort though, the _Hakushaku_, and Road answered lightly, "Is that so?" He was wearing artful lollipops on his hat today, and Road admired the pink and blue swirls.

"Yes," the Earl continued, and then abruptly changed the topic, "I need you to travel somewhere." Road was unperturbed by the conversation switch, following up effortlessly like a good servant of the Earl should.

"Of course, Millennie."

"There is something I would like you to bring to me, a certain Innocence." Road nodded knowingly, sliding off the couch, a checkered door already materialized before her. "It's in the village Osceol, in the Tulac Plains—" She had a foot already through the door, Lero on her shoulder. She glanced behind her at the round shadowed figure of the Earl, his spectacles two gleams of white from the light of the fire. "—the Heart, that is."

A grin split his lips and he rocked back and forth in his chair, chortling in mirth. Road gazed at him affectionately through half-lidded eyes.

"_Hai, Hakushaku._" The heart-shaped doors closed.

Her eyes gleaming dangerously, she traipsed through the swirl of dimensions towards the door already conjured in the heart of the Tulac Plains. Road was unable to stop the smirk from rising to her lips, filled with sudden anticipation and childlike glee.

_Time to destroy all the Innocence._

_...

* * *

_

**A/N:** First of all, Happy New Year. It's belated, I know. Forgive me.

Kudos to those who still stick around despite my criminally late updates. I haven't been able to find the time to write with all the stuff that's been going on. But, as I'm sure my East-coast readers know, the recent blizzard has given me _plenty_ of time to sit in front of the computer and work on my neglected story. And I'm not even in one of the fringe states like New York or Virginia (not that I'm doubting the amount of snow you folks received) but I was in the heart of the back-to-back storms, in Maryland. Thank god I didn't lose power.

Anyway, I would _love_ if you wrote a review, and critiques are doubly appreciated. I promise my next update will be sooner rather than later. And of course, **thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

Newly-found optimism or not, Allen was still basically in the same position he'd been in several hours ago: On the outs with both the Order and the Noah, still trying to get in good graces with the exorcists, still trying to find a way to regain control of his white form and Innocence, to synchronize with his Noah. And still nowhere near to accomplishing any of it.

He stepped out into the town where the Arc door had led, wondering where he should go next. He'd exhausted all of his plans. Every one of his attempts to reconnect with the Order had been met with failure. Remembering the heartbroken look Lavi had had when he yelled at him through the bars of his cell, the shouts and half-snarls of Kanda when he vowed his grisly death by Mugen if he dared to show his face again, he realized those failures were costly ones.

So what would he do now?

There really only was one option: keep delivering Innocence. Keep fulfilling the duties of an exorcist, even if no one appreciated or wanted it. That was the honorable thing to do. Allen thought he should be more like his master. Nevermind his womanizing tendencies, Cross completed his duties without the coddling of the Order, sometimes with outright disrespect and disdain from the Vatican. So what if he procrastinated and spent the funding for his missions on booze and brothels? To do an unasked, thankless job, to complete his mission even with no assistance from the Order, completely blind, in enemy territory...

_Cross hasn't been exiled from the Order, though_, a nagging part of his mind voiced. _Cross doesn't have a price on his head._ Actually, for all he knew, the red-haired Marshall might. He certainly had a criminally large debt following him around and may very well be featured on a few 'wanted' posters. Still...at least his comrades hadn't vowed to kill him. Cross didn't even have any comrades. Could Allen really do that? Strike out on his own with only the company of his outcast Noah, malfunctioning Innocence, and the demons of his past?

Allen stopped in the street, letting out an irritated snort.

God! He had to stop feeling sorry for himself if he was going to achieve anything. Enough moaning and wallowing in despair.

_I am an exorcist_, he thought with conviction. He was free, officially out of the clutches of the Millennium Earl, and more or less unscathed thanks to Road's miracle healing. Lavi's blame-filled tirade was probably borne from anguish over Lenalee's death and general shock at finding him alive. The order to have his Innocence removed could have just been Leverreir pulling the strings from behind the scenes—not a decision of the Order, his friends, themselves. Kanda had threatened to disembowel him, sure, but how was that any different from his usual threats?

He was still breathing, still alive. And as long as his heart beat in his chest, he would fight. For the humans and demons. Against the Millennium Earl. On behalf of God.

But first, he needed to decide which way to go...

He glanced down the street at a crossroads. The town he had transported to was familiar, although he had never been. Most every city in this day and age had about the same look, making it hard to determine where exactly in the world he was, and _Somewhere in Europe_ didn't exactly help him with finding his way to the Order. Or even one of its bases, for that matter.

For a fleeting moment, he considered going back to the Arc, longing for a speedy transport to some conveniently placed location. But really, he needed to break this Noah habit of his and stop going there on every whim, lest someone question where his loyalties lie.

"I suppose I should ask directions," he said to himself, a bit amused that he needed to resort to such mundane behavior. A small smile settled on his lips as he went to approach a nearby shopkeeper, falling into his trademark poise and polite manner.

Controlling the conflict between his Noah and Innocence? That was taxing, and increasingly difficult.

But being a gentleman? A more natural grin stretched across his face, eyes shining in a way that would have made his comrades sigh in nostalgia. Now _that_ he could do.

"Excuse me, sir," he called once he was in earshot of the shopkeeper. The man inclined his head in polite curiosity, his brows raised expectantly. "Do you think you could—" Allen halted, startled by the sudden suspicion that had crept into the man's eyes. It wasn't outright hostility. Just a careful, guarded expression, like he had suddenly donned armor at his approach. _Why_..._? _

This man couldn't possibly know who he was. What, had there been some worldwide announcement or something? 'Distrust Allen Walker'? He frowned, more confused than hurt. Well, maybe a little bit hurt. He wasn't used to people wary of his gentlemanly side, especially when he was naturally well-mannered anyway. The shopkeeper's reaction really was strange. Allen was seriously considering that something must be wrong, that maybe the police or someone _had_ issued a warning about him, when he realized it.

_Of course_. He didn't look like the kind, approachable Allen that people couldn't help but like at first sight, with inviting eyes and a soothing smile that made people trust him immediately and implicitly. No, not any more.

He looked like a Noah. Unnatural. Freakish. With dark skin and yellow eyes, and an aura that seemed to physically repulse humans. His curse-borne attributes only added to his threatening image, and he was at least thankful a demon wasn't around. If his cursed eye had surfaced in all its red, convulsing glory, the poor man might have run screaming. Or gone to fetch a weapon...

He pressed his lips tightly together and turned away, continuing down the street past the store. The man had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but relief was his primary expression as the Noah stalked away. The long-and-lean boy didn't look older than twenty, even with his white hair, and should have been harmless. But the intensity of his eyes, like he was constantly hunting something or being hunted, and the dark skin that was a black no ethnicity could achieve...Dangerous. That boy was dangerous.

Allen walked faster down the street, disappointment looming above him like the clouds shadowing the town. He realized he would need to get used to that type of reaction as long as he was stuck in his black form. For the first time, he was envious of his fellow Clansmen. How come _they_ could freely change to and from their different forms? He hadn't quite reached maturity, yet, but he was close enough. Tyki didn't have absolute control over his Noah and he could still change.

He willed his skin to transform back into its human complexion, feeling so close to achieving it, like it was _right there _and he only had to reach out just a little further. He'd already felt a flicker of familiarity when he had tried in the Arc.

He stared at his hands intently, concentrating on getting the pigment to recede.

_Come on, Walker_, he thought. _You've been in human skin your whole life_. Humanity, concentrate on humanity. His hands, light skinned...tanned in the summertime…bruised from training...white knuckled when he gripped his Innocence and exorcised the evil in demons...

_There!_ A flash of paleness, like a flickering light, there then gone again. If he'd blinked he would have missed it. He smothered his mounting excitement. Calm down, calm down. Concentrate. His hands were inches from his face now.

Was his skin getting slightly lighter? No, it was the same. Wait—that part of his palm was definitely lighter than before.

He stayed in that infuriating limbo for awhile, skin dancing between dark and less dark, like a dimmer moved up and down, up and down. His heart would beat dangerously fast as his skin lightened, holding his breath in anticipation. And then a hiss of frustration as it darkened once more.

At one point, his skin brightened to a point where he could have been mistaken for a slightly gray Hispanic, and he felt the first tingling of his Innocence shoot through his arm. It was so achingly familiar, and he knew exactly what power it was capable of. If only he could tap into it.

The Crown Clown was right there, he could feel it. The ornate mask with the billowing white cloak. Close, drifting over his shoulders but the cloth not quite fingers reached out, grasping at the Innocence that was so near he could feel the power rolling across his skin...

And then the nausea hit him.

_No. _

He pulled back, retching.

No. His black form was still stronger. _How could it be stronger?_ He'd had his Innocence longer, trained with it longer, knew it far better than the Fourteenth. Why was it that his Noah overpowered the Crown Clown?

His synchro-rate with his Innocence was over maximum, Point-Breaking. And he hadn't even achieved maturity with his Noah. Even lost control of it once. _And what a costly lapse in control that turned out to be..._

He shook his head. No. He would not think of Lenalee. Lenalee was gone, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He lived to save humans and demons. He couldn't save the dead.

He grimaced at the harsh reality, ignoring the burn in his eyes. _I don't have time to cry._

Overcome with exhaustion, he put his hands on his knees and panted, suddenly aware of the strain he'd just put himself through. But at least he'd accomplished something. He had definitely come close to wearing his white form, even felt his Innocence, strong and lingering, as if just waiting for him to retake control. Crown Clown hadn't abandoned him.

Catching his breath, it took him awhile to become aware of his surroundings again, but as he focused back on reality, he picked up on a faint voice yelling from afar, carrying over the din of the city. He straightened, glancing around quizzically.

He wasn't hearing things, was he?

He heard the noise again, slightly louder. People near him in the street looked up, turning towards the direction of the voice. Allen strained his ears. With the Fourteenth's ability, he should be able to hear a thousand times better than any human. He could hear a pin drop miles away, and opened his ears completely to take in all of his auditory surroundings...

"MASTER!"

He clapped his hands over his ears. The voice was _jarringly_ loud. And somewhat familiar. _What_..._? _

He strained his eyes, squinting as he plugged his ears with his fingers. "That voice—"

"MASTER! MAS-_TER! Allen Walker-sama!!!_" His eyes widened as a small human-shaped shadow came bursting down the street bawling her head off. He could practically see the tears flying. There wasn't anyone in the world who called him that except—

"Cecily?"

She cried even harder at the sound of her name, and the features of the petite modified demon finally came into view. She still looked completely human, no trace of a pentacle or demon eyes, and wore the same dress he had left her in. Tears streamed down her face and she was waving her arms wildly to get his attention.

God, she was as prone to hysterics as—He stilled. What was her name again? Myrtle? Maria? His friend, that kind woman with dark eyes who came from the Rewinding Town....

"Miranda!" The memory washed over him, bringing intense relief. Then his heart sank a little. _I'm still forgetting things. _

Road had said that after awhile he wouldn't remember anything of his life before he became a Noah. Would he be able to retain _any _memories of his past life? Or were they already lost, disappearing one by one in slow precession?

Meanwhile, Cecily was closing the distance between them with fantastic speed, despite being halfway across the town when he appeared from the Arc. As she neared, Allen spotted Timcanpy on her shoulder and his heart swelled at the sight of the little golden golem who...actually wasn't that little. So he'd grown again, Allen thought. He used to think that Timcanpy only expanded when Cross was nearby. But now...

"It's _Cecily_, Master. Who's Miranda?" The modified demon broke through crowds, seemingly unaware of the attention she was drawing by parting whole seas of people with her bare hands. And with a golden golem on her shoulder no less...

"Er...Cecily. Maybe you should—"

"You're so _cruel_, Master! How could you abandon me like that? Maybe if I looked more like this Miranda-girl you would've stayed." The curious gazes of the townspeople turned suspicious, and he could only imagine what kind of conclusions they were drawing from Cecily's shouted accusations. It didn't help that she called him 'Master', either.

Allen pulled at his face in exasperation, and when she finally reached him, ready to batter him with a thousand questions no doubt, he reached for her arm and yanked her towards him. Sighing loudly, he turned on his heel and raced the other way, ignoring Cecily's startled protests and the shouts from the crowd behind him.

When they were a safe enough distance away, meaning there were no public eyes that could see him, Allen slowed to a halt and let go of the she-demon's hand. Even though she seemed angry at him seconds before, as soon as they'd stopped she flung her arms around him and started bawling again, sobbing about how she missed him and why was he gone for so long and why did he leave this _thing_ with her. Allen looked at Tim with a raised brow, wondering what the golem had done to incur the resentment of the modified demon.

"It was horrible, Master! That thing eats _everything_. I knew it was special to you so I tried feeding it, but," Her eyes filled with tears. "It just kept eating! It wouldn't stop. And then it _grew_ and—I'm so glad you're back, Master!" She collapsed in his arms.

Wow. Never leave a modified demon on it's own for too long.

But didn't Cross send his demons out on solitary missions all the time?

"Alright, Cecily, it's okay. I didn't mean to leave for so long. I was..." _I forgot about you, actually._ "…very busy." he finished lamely.

Tim flew from Cecily's shoulder and took up his perch on his head. The weight felt different, heavier, and Allen found himself altering his posture to stay balanced while he walked. He really had grown.

Allen smiled up at the golden golem, now just visible at the top of his vision. _It's good to have you back, Tim_. He hadn't realized how lacking he'd felt, like some part of him was missing, until Timcanpy was with him again.

He felt stronger, more full. And for some reason the Fourteenth's voice was clearer inside his head. Why would Timcanpy affect the Fourteenth, and in a beneficial way no less?

He scrunched his brows in concentration. Something told him that he knew exactly why there was a connection between the golem and his Noah, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what that reason was. He cursed his forgetfulness, because whatever memory had slipped from his mind, he was damn sure it was important.

He was about to further pursue the issue, wondering if it was possible to interrogate a golem, when Cecily nudged him in the ribs, demanding why he wasn't paying attention to her. He snapped out of his thoughts and rubbed his chest where she'd elbowed him. She certainly hadn't had the courage to do that before, now reminding him of a certain petite Noah Clansman.

"Sorry, sorry—What were you saying?" Cecily huffed, obviously frustrated.

"I _asked_: Why aren't you part of the summit at the House of the Earl?" Allen's head jerked back in surprise.

"Summit? What summit?"

"The demon summit." Cecily frowned. "Haven't you heard from the Millennium Earl?"

"What summit, Cecily?" Allen gripped her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake the modified demon. "What's going on?" Worry finally settled itself on her face, along with a dash of fear.

"The Millennium Earl is summoning all the demons in Europe. He called all the Noah together just yesterday. When I felt you here I was wondering why you weren't with the Millennium Earl…but you didn't know?" Her frantic eyes searched his, seeking some sort of recognition, of understanding, but she only saw confusion. "He's been calling nonstop since yesterday. The demons have been leaving in hordes and hordes, almost all of them are gone now. I didn't go because you told me to stay here, but it's so hard." His ears picked up on the strain in her voice, and Allen swallowed some of his panic to actually look at the modified demon.

Now he saw the faint tremble in her frame, skin just a bit too pale for normal human skin. Lavi had described to him these symptoms before, when a modified demon was close to being broken and reverting back.

"Do you know why all the demons are being summoned? Why are all the Noah gathering?" Anxiety twisted his features. He hated being out of the loop, in the dark about enemy movements.

Hell, it may as well be his ally's movements—wasn't he a Noah too? But the Earl had purposely excluded him. A wise decision on his part, he had to admit; he would have immediately notified the Order. Allen ground his teeth. The freaking Millennium Earl knew where his loyalties lay, why not the Dark Order?

"Do you know, Cecily? What he's planning? Why haven't I heard of this?" Timcanpy tittered worriedly on his head, but Allen couldn't calm down. Something was going on and he was being left entirely out of the equation. If the Earl was planning another attack, he needed to know and warn Headquarters.

"I don't know, I don't know! I've been trying to shut him out of my head. If I hear his voice, I start losing control."

"Is he still calling? Could you tell me what he's saying, listen for just a second?" Cecily nodded hesitantly, even reluctantly. He knew she didn't want to become a demon again, terrified of the Earl, and rightly so, but he _needed_ to know what the Earl was planning.

The modified demon pinched her eyes shut, the tension in her shoulders not lightening as she opened her mind to the commanding voice that had tormented her for over a day.

Allen knew the instant the summon made contact with her, the demon going rigid all over, fingers balled into fists at her sides. Her face was screwed up as if in pain, but he knew it was only the exertion it took to defy a direct order from her maker. Her lips parted, letting out a few shallow gasps, and then he heard the Millennium Earl through her voice.

"_Come, my lovely demons. Meet in Tulaine._" She was making tiny noises of pain, sweat beading across her forehead. "_C-come, come to Tulaine. My lovely demons, meet in the Tulac Plains." _

A feeling of unease crept through Allen. The Earl sounded excited. Very excited.

Cecily's skin paled to almost cadaverous levels. Her pupils shrunk, and then expanded to take over the irises and whites, her eyes turning entirely black. Allen gripped her shoulders tightly, willing the star not to appear on her forehead, as the last of the message came through her gritted teeth.

"_Meet in the Tulac Plains, my lovely demons,_" the message repeated. "_Come and destroy the Heart." _

* * *

The exorcist to Kanda's left turned his head suddenly, pausing mid-dress to stare down the eastern hallway.

"Hey, isn't that the Bookman?"

Kanda glanced up from lacing his boots, eying the figure as it neared through the strands of his bangs. Bookman had his sights set on Kanda as well, pinning the dark-haired exorcist with a level stare. The wizened man walked purposely, with a strong gait despite his diminutive stature. Definitely coming this way.

Kanda stood up to his full height and hooked his palm lazily on the hilt of his sword. He was in full exorcist gear: clothes reinforced with fibrous armor, exorcist traveling cloak, and combat boots to his knees. His sword was sharpened and polished to deadly perfection and his thick mane of hair was scraped severely back into a high ponytail. He was ready.

The Bookman, however, looked ready as well, Innocence glinting at the tip of his fingers, also dressed for battle. Did Bookman think he would be part of the platoon?

Kanda scowled and called out, even though the man had nearly reached them.

"Komui said three exorcists, Bookman, and I'm taking Lavi, Marie, and Lucas," Kanda said, nodding towards the exorcists arming up beside him. Slim pickings, but he had to work with what he had.

Due to the war, many exorcists were either dead, injured, or busy replenishing the numbers in their own branches. Kanda had taken Komui's advice and picked exorcists who had Crystal-type and were trustworthy in battle. _'The strongest and most trusted'_ Komui had said, though he would die before ever admitting that he trusted _baka usagi. _

Bookman wasn't offput at all by his blunt dismissal, crossing his palms calmly at the face of the Order's worst-tempered member, who was even more irascible than usual.

"I am not going with you as an exorcist," Bookman said. Kanda's hostile stance relaxed as realization dawned. Bookman was going on the mission to record history. "And neither is Lavi." The exorcist in question looked like he disagreed, but kept his mouth shut nonetheless, tightening the last few ties on his jacket sleeves and gloves. It didn't really matter that much. Going as Bookman Jr still constituted as going, Lavi just wouldn't be in the front lines.

"Fine," he snapped. That opened up another spot on the platoon. "We'll take Krory."

Kanda wasn't particularly fond of the vampire-exorcist, but he could hold his own in battle and didn't get in the way. He also fit the bill for being an adapter for Crystal-type Innocence, and when he presented his completed team to Komui, the Supervisor nodded approvingly.

"Alright, I'm sure you all know the mission details by now. I want you to move quickly and efficiently—this is the Heart we're talking about." Everyone nodded an affirmative, somewhat awed by the gravity of Komui's tone. "There's no way of knowing if the Earl already knows where the Heart is, so we have to move fast. Does everyone understand? We _must _retrieve the Heart before the Earl. I'm sending you out as soon as I finish speaking. Move fast, don't rest for too long or too frequently. For all we know, the Earl could already be on the move."

"Who was the informant?" Kanda asked. If they were walking into a trap...

Komui shook his head. "The tip-off came from one of the villagers in the Plains—anonymous. Apparently there's a girl there who's an adapter for the Heart, but we don't know much else." Komui pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The Heart is there, though, we're certain of it. Our sensors have been going crazy around that whole area and there have been reports of unnatural phenomena." The other exorcists nodded knowingly. Kanda flexed his legs underneath his cloak, anxious to set out.

He still wasn't sure that this particular Innocence was _the_ Heart, but it was important that they find that out before the Earl did. And the Earl would most certainly aim to destroy the Innocence, so Heart or not, it was their duty to retrieve the Innocence before anything happened to it.

Kanda looked over his hastily assembled team.

Krory was busy making sure the fastenings on his blood-bottles would hold, tightening the straps lining the entire inside of his cloak with nervous ferocity.

Lucas was an exorcist he didn't know, a Senior by longevity rather than skill. He was rubbing his wrists absentmindedly, and even as cords of muscle bulged from the action, Kanda couldn't help but think the man would be dead weight and as useless as a Finder.

Marie was standing near the wall in that silent way Kanda always appreciated, in his usual pre-battle meditative state. Kanda liked to center himself before a mission too, but the anxiety of leading a team and the seriousness of their mission made doing so an impossible task.

At last, he glanced towards Lavi and Bookman, the former slouched against the wall with a certain grim indifference. The red-haired exorcist had had an air of apathy lately, completing his exorcist duties halfheartedly with none of his usual humor or flair. He wondered if his lackluster attitude was the result of Lenalee's death or Allen's betrayal—or maybe a combination of the two—and then told himself he didn't care. He much preferred this new Lavi rather than the old obnoxious one.

He looked to Komui, who was standing cross-armed in front of his desk, mug of coffee neglected on the corner table. The Supervisor did his own scan of the team, his gaze moving down the line of exorcists until it reached Kanda's, and their eyes met. They shared a brief nod.

"Okay," Kanda called. "Move out."

...

* * *

**A/N: **We're finally coming down to the heart of things, and yes, that means the end is nigh. I assure you, this story won't become some 42-chapter monster-fic with a dozen plot twists to keep the story from ending (and I'm sorry if it seemed that way).

An important question: For the final chapters, would you prefer a few long chapters, or many shorter ones? It all depends on whether you like reading 2,000+ words per chapter (most of my chapters), or 4,000+ words per chapter (like Chapter 7 or this chapter). Let me know!

And, as always, thanks for reading. If you want a speedy update, I've found that reviews are helpful. (Wink, wink).


	15. Chapter 15

Lavi had been Bookman's apprentice for a long time. Forty-nine lifetimes, to be exact, and nearing on fifty. With Bookman, he'd been to thirty-eight countries, five continents, twenty-seven territories, and twelve uncharted islands and mountain provinces.

And he had _walked_ everywhere.

But as his boots hit the dry, packed dirt one after another, soreness shooting up his shins with every step, sweat slicking every inch of skin underneath his heavy cloak and the frankly _unnatural_ humidity, he felt as if he couldn't walk another step.

This place was _hell_, Lavi decided. He'd been to rainforests less humid. But the land in Tulaine was strictly prairie—hard, cracked earth with vigilant blades of grass poking through. How could a land so dry be so unbearably humid?

Because of the mists, Kanda had said. Tulaine was infamous for erratic mists that swept the land like low, wayward clouds, shrouding areas for even miles in such a dense fog that the region had been nicknamed the Blind Lands. The mists never stayed in the same place for long, and residents might find themselves enveloped in one without a moment's warning, lasting for mere seconds or hanging over the area for hours. And it only got worse in the Tulac Plains.

He wouldn't mind a little mist right now, he thought, removing his sweat-darkened headband and fervently wishing he could do the same with his cloak. When they had entered the region and were hit with that first blast of humidity, the exorcists had immediately started to shrug off their cloaks and outer layers, but a sharp snap from Kanda had stopped them mid-action. He said that they needed the cloaks for armor and cover, that they were essential for safe passage to the Plains. He was met with agonized groans of his team as they re-donned their cloaks, but Kanda was the leader, and an order was an order. Lavi was about to protest that technically he wasn't a part of the platoon, but then Bookman gave him the same order, and they were all left to swelter in silent resentment.

Lavi hadn't outwardly complained so far—if Yuu could handle the mugginess, so could he. But after walking for the better part of a day he was beginning to wear down. Already his legs ached from the repeated motion of walking, and he blamed his shameful stamina on the fact that they hadn't stopped to rest in seven hours, since they'd first set out. His hair was matted with sweat, sticking to his forehead and neck in sheets of deep red, and Lavi glared at the neatly-tied length of hair swinging between the stiff shoulder blades in front of him, muttering curses at Kanda for subjecting them all to this torture.

Kanda was several yards ahead of the team, storming forward at a breakneck pace considering the distance they had to cover. It was a day's walk from the edge of Tulaine to the Tulac Plains, which was roughly in the center of the nation, and a day and a half if rest-time was included. But Kanda hadn't hinted at a break at all during the mission, and at this rate it looked like he would keep them walking through the night.

Lavi at least had the satisfaction of seeing Yuu suffer, no matter how unaffected he pretended to be. He could see that the exorcist's hair, though tied back, was lank with sweat, his gait stiff from the strain of nonstop movement. Kanda had stopped barking _'Keep moving!'_ at them an hour ago, lapsing into silence to conserve energy.

The only thing that kept the exorcists moving forward was the reason for their expedition. The Heart.

The Dark Order had been searching for the Heart for at least a thousand years, and if the tip-off proved to be true, it was now barely a day away. There had been no sign of demons yet, but the exorcists were far from at ease, at least one of them casting a seasoned eye across the grounds at regular intervals, sensitive to the slightest movement that would betray an ambush. It would be naïve to think the demons wouldn't show.

The Earl would come, Lavi was sure of it, and then it would all boil down to a race for the Heart. Whatever happened, whether the Dark Order emerged triumphant or the Millennium Earl remained victorious in the end, the battle that had raged since the Genesis of the Earth would finally be settled right then.

Lavi gazed at the vast distance before him, the horizon distorted by rippling heat, towards the village where the Heart's adapter would be, where the final war would be waged, and wondered if he would survive to record it.

* * *

The exorcist team looked to the approaching night with exaltation; at last a respite from the heat. Although the air still smacked of Tulaine's perpetual humidity, at least the sun would no longer add it's blistering temperature, a combination that had done much to weaken the resolves and stamina of the otherwise more-than-formidable team.

The sun setting also meant that if they had kept up their pace—and with Kanda setting the speed, that was pretty much guaranteed—they were now entering the Tulac Plains.

There was no change in scenery or weather as the team stepped across the border lines of the Plains, but the exorcists' spirits were instantly rejuvenated, as if receiving a shot of adrenaline, knowing that they were that much closer to reaching their destination.

"We have roughly fifteen miles to go," Kanda informed them, in a tone that meant _Don't get your hopes up_. "Let's keep moving." But even Kanda had an extra spring in his step. They quickened to a brisk walk, trotting through the grasses in a clear forward direction with few detours or maneuvering. It was optimism now that drove the exorcists onward, past the point where fatigue would have normally made them collapse and quit for the night.

Fifteen miles; another three to four hours. Only fifteen more miles to go.

The sun dipped below the horizon, replaced by a deep and cloudless night. A full moon hung in the sky, solitary but for a smattering of stars. Nighttime breeze cooled tired, sweat-slicked skin, and moonlight soothed restless minds. Lavi didn't lower his guard, however, too experienced from his life of nomadic roaming not to know the dangers of a seemingly peaceful night.

He glanced warily up at the moon.

A full moon made traveling at night easier, but it also meant that things hiding in the shadows could see the team a lot clearer than if they were moving under the cover of darkness. The exorcists were out in the open, vulnerable to anything with reasonable stealth. And then there was the indisputable knowledge that demons had better night vision than exorcists. Even with decent visibility and the exorcists' upper-hand in weaponry, the Earl's creations would have the advantage in a nighttime battle. The chances for attack had increased exponentially.

The distance between them and the village shrank—gradually, slowly. Like the procession of the moon across the sky.

_Three more nights of a full moon,_ Lavi thought, recalling the lunar cycle. _The last night will be the brightest._

In three nights, they could complete their mission. In three nights, it would all be over.

* * *

They had covered about eight or so miles when the first tinglings of unease hit the platoon. They were all Senior exorcists, veterans, who wouldn't have survived this long without developing some sort of sense that warned them of demons. As they advanced through the Plains, each exorcist experienced their own sense of danger, flaring up like a warning flag as their hackles drew up and postures stiffened.

For Lavi, it was the way the air felt, like it had become thicker, denser. Like something massive was filling it up. He shared knowing glances with the rest of his team. Kanda shifted the sheathed blade at his hip for easier access, and then gave him a quick nod that Lavi knew from their innumerable missions together to mean: Be on your guard. The continued walking, eyes and ears alert.

All of the exorcists knew that demons were near.

They just hadn't been aware how near they really were.

When the first howl tore through the sky, piercing the silence right above their heads, all they did at first was reel in shock. _How...? When did they...?_ It was like opening their eyes. One moment there was an uneasy feeling, an ominous quiet.

And then all of a sudden there were demons filling every inch of the sky.

"Demons!" Lucas shouted. They fell into defensive crouches, heads craned toward the heavens to confirm that demons were indeed above them. They spanned across the entire horizon, as numerous as stars. More demons burst from the sparse woods, charging forward like one of the armies of old, blocking their way to Osceol. The sound of their baying filled the air with deep, numbing vibrations, like a tuning fork held too close to the ear. Kanda stood with his tongue stuck in his throat. How could anyone issue orders at the face of so many demons? There was no protocol for this.

Hundreds, thousands, millions, more than Lavi had ever seen at once. They seemed to shadow the world with the sheer enormity of them, darkness creeping closer and closer like a second night. Coming towards them like storm clouds.

Lavi frowned, squinting. Wait...the shadows weren't _demons_.

Something dark was coming towards them, closing in behind the demons that were already dropping to the ground, much too fast and low to be just a cloud.

"Shit," he heard Kanda swear, right before he went blind.

The mist descended on them, like a curtain drawn, blocking the minimal light offered by the moon and plunging them in darkness. The exorcists squinted through the dense fog, trying to distinguish between the shapes and shadows that had suddenly replaced the landscape.

Separation was inevitable, and soon Lavi could no longer hear the rest of his teammates around him. His nerves ramped up, hair prickling all over his skin like a scared cat's, not so much because of the sudden darkness, but because of the confusion that followed it. In the mist, he couldn't gauge height and distance, couldn't tell friend from foe. Shouting to his teammates would attract the attention of the enemy, as well as the anticipated party. He couldn't see, couldn't communicate, and with the sudden pandemonium, couldn't really think either.

In the back of his mind, Lavi thought to himself, _Yuu's going to have a _fit.

Being assigned the leader of the platoon, the dark-haired exorcist had meticulously planned every aspect of the mission short of counting the number of steps it would take them to get there, snarling at anyone who threatened to mess up its nearly eviscerated Krory when the good-natured exorcist had mistaken their only set of maps for napkins and used them to clean his face after a bloody feeding.

It was safe to say that Krory wouldn't go within ten feet of Kanda after _that_ blowup.

Everyone followed the his orders to the tee after that, and for awhile they had been on their way to setting a record for most efficient mission ever.

Kanda hadn't counted on the native mists coming during a demon attack, though. The mist had taken their well-formed platoon and shattered it into tiny, vulnerable pieces.

Shadows rained from above and Lavi heard the _thumpthumpthump_ of demons hitting the ground to his left, right, in a full circle around him—and some were entirely too close. He jerked forward spasmodically, as if Death had run a cold finger up his spine, sent into a panic by the certainty that a demon was _right _behind him. He spun in vain, trying to cover his back so nothing could sneak up on him, but it was useless when he couldn't see. He knew the enemy was all around him and could just barely make out the shadows rushing towards targets or stumbling in the darkness.

He rushed in a random direction, too anxious to stay in the same area for too long. A shape that Lavi figured was an exorcist, judging by size, flew through the mist and cut across his path. Maybe Kuro-chan? Lavi hastily darted past as a larger shadow stomped towards the figure.

A distant _clang _sounded in his ears, along with muted shouts as Kanda activated his Innocence.

There was no way to tell how many demons had surrounded them, other than by counting the number of thuds as they hit the ground or by the sound of swishing in the grass as they charged from the woods, but Lavi could safely deduce that the amount was 'way too fucking many'.

As he ran, a shape loomed in front of him, a silhouette leaping out from darkness. He raced towards the hulking shadow to catch it off-guard, shouting: "Innocence, activate!"

Lavi swung at the demon, his hammer striking right at its midsection with a satisfying _thunk_, and the demon toppled over and hit the ground like a felled tree. The sound of cracking branches and falling leaves filled the air.

_Er..._

He ran towards the massive shape until he was standing right in front of it, peering through the fog with squinting eyes to confirm that, yes, he had just killed a tree. Way to go, Lavi.

With a visible sweatdrop, he backed away, simultaneously cursing and thanking the mist for causing, then veiling, his blunder.

"Where the hell are you, _baka usagi_?" Lavi winced at the volume. Kanda apparently didn't care if the demons heard him.

He shuffled his feet anxiously, wondering how he was supposed to signal back when visibility was zero. Kanda called again, tacking on a string of profanities after his name.

Screw it, the demons were probably too stupid to deduce his location by the sound of his voice.

"Over here!" he called. Feet pounded all around him as the demons whirled in the mist, searching for him, but Lavi was already racing towards where he heard Kanda. He knew when he was nearing the exorcists when he heard heavy breathing, and slowed to a halt in a clearing. Somehow everyone had stuck together except him. Either that or they had found each other faster. He could already feel Bookman mentally chiding him.

"What are we going to do?" someone whispered. Lucas, probably. Lavi shrugged before he realized that the exorcist couldn't see him.

This damn fog was going to be a nuisance. How were they supposed to continue on? He could see the faint outlines of his teammates when he was this close, but unless they wanted to huddle skin-to-skin all the way to Osceol, they needed to come up with a plan. If they'd had a golem with them, they could've used it to communicate. But golems didn't work this deep into the Plains.

"I don't know, but I sure as hell can't fight in this," Lavi said. He might have heard Kanda grunt in agreement.

"The demons can't fight in the mists either," the deep voice of Marie sounded to his right. "I can hear them stumbling, going in circles. If this was an organized attack—and with this number it had to have been—it isn't anymore."

"You can tell where they are?" Kanda asked.

"Like I said, I can hear them—it's confusing. Challenging. But I can pinpoint their locations, yes. It's just a matter of listening to the range of sounds they produce and stringing it all together. Kind of like music..."

"Whatever. Could we attack them? Can you seek them out?" Marie shifted beside him, and Lavi guessed he was in deep thought, mulling it over.

"Yes, I can find them. But for all of us to attack, we would need to communicate. And there would be some delay since I need to first hear them and then pinpoint their location."

"It doesn't matter, we can't wait for the mist to rise. Tell us where the nearest—"

"Wait!" Lavi saw Marie's hands go to the sides of his head, holding the amplifiers to his ears. He tensed. Obviously the man had heard something...

"They're leaving," the exorcist murmured incredulously. "The demons are retreating." And then they noticed that the clamor around them was indeed dying. The sudden silence was eerie.

"I thought they couldn't orient themselves in the mist," Kanda said accusingly, though whether he was blaming Marie or the demons Lavi wasn't sure. Marie was still standing with his hands pressed to his ears, and he might have been shaking his head, dumbfounded.

"I don't understand...They were all lost and confused, scattered all over. Then all of a sudden they started leaving or flying away, moving in the same direction." Lavi furrowed his brows. That many demons moving in unity meant they had all received an order. So that meant...

"Noah." Kanda said. Lavi's fist tightened on the handle of his hammer. If the Noah were here, then the Earl definitely knew about the Heart, sending a horde of demons to intercept them. From the brief glance he'd gotten before the mist came and the sound of footsteps around him, the Earl must have gathered a sizable amount of demons. Nearly all the ones in Europe. Lavi had only dealt with a demon army this size when he'd fought in Edo, and he had no desire to repeat that experience.

Thank god they had all retreated.

"So the demons were called back to wait out the mist?" he said. "Smart, I guess. Are we doing the same?"

"No," came Kanda's reply. Of course not. "We don't have time to wait for it to clear. We'll keep moving toward the village." He heard Kanda adjust his sword on his back, where it was easier to run with, rather than jangling at his hip.

"Everyone keep close to me."

Lavi snorted. He bet that was the first time Kanda had ever said those words.

* * *

Moving through the mist was dangerous. They had no way of knowing whether they were moving in the right direction or not after getting turned around in the demon attack, but they all came to an agreement that the village was roughly _this _way.

The flat ground had become treacherous in the darkness, the silence broken by murmured swears and hisses as the exorcists tripped on rocks or slipped in the grass, cries of surprise and disgust as they bumped into each other and kicked snakes out of the way. There was also the added pressure and anxiety that as soon as the mist raised an army of demons would be waiting for them, which made their movements even more stiff and uncoordinated in the blackness.

They were all running now, no more lumbering forward at a fast walk, huddling not exactly skin-to-skin, but close enough for Lavi to feel the heat of heavy breathing around him.

"_Ouch!_" a voice hissed near his ear. Apparently someone's foot had been stepped on.

"Sorry!"

Lavi didn't know why they were whispering, but it was better to be safe—who knew if any of the demons had super-hearing?

"Move to the left," whispered Marie, their figurative 'eyes' in this situation.

"I told you," Kanda growled. "I don't want us veering too far off-course."

"You're welcome to hit that tree if you want." They all moved to the left.

The moans and cries of the demons still sounded above them, not fading at all as they ran through the grasses. If anything, they were getting louder.

"Let's take a rest, Kanda," Lavi was surprised to hear his own voice say. "We've been moving for hours. We can run all night, but we can't fight like this. We need downtime, just for a moment or two." He was even more surprised when Kanda immediately slumped to the ground, panting and wiping the sweat from his face. With that silent approval, the rest of the team collapsed around him, each now resting their own shuddering muscles.

The team lapsed into silence, the only noise coming from their harsh gasps and the distinct _glug glug glug _of Krory downing a blood-bottle. Marie sprawled in the grass beside him, lying back as his huge chest rose up and down. He deserved a break more than any of them. Lavi rested his forearms on his knees, running a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face. Somewhere along the way he had lost his headband.

He didn't know how long they sat there, just lying in the grass, but it was after their breathing had gone back to normal and the night had cooled their sweat when the shrieking came from above. The demons were bellowing full-volume now, after having quieted somewhat, and the exorcists looked nervously into the mist, like any moment the demons would swoop down in front of them.

"What's happening?" Kanda's voice was hoarse. "Is the mist clearing?" But the fog surrounding them was as thick as ever. As annoying as it was, Lavi was thankful that it provided cover. The demons would have surely slaughtered them otherwise by now. But _something_ was exciting the demons, causing them to yip and squall and jeer in all sorts of inhuman noises.

"Ahh," Bookman murmured to himself philosophically, as if startled by a revelation. Lavi looked at him impatiently. _What is it, old man? _

The current circumstances had darkened Lavi's sense of humor, and his tolerance for the antics of his teammates mirrored Kanda's in its narrowness, even if it _was _his tutor. Bookman merely cast a grave look at his apprentice and then sagely announced, "The Player is here."

The weary team of exorcists stood up at this, in an instant becoming alert and battle-ready. Nevermind that they had no idea who 'The Player' was—when your most senior member states that someone not necessarily an ally is nearby, you get on your guard, no questions asked.

Raising his enlarged hammer, taking care to scan every inch of their perimeter with a critical, uncovered eye, Lavi wracked his brain trying to remember if he had ever heard of 'The Player' before. It sounded familiar, annoyingly familiar, as though he had tasted the name on his lips once before, uttered it on some previous occasion without knowing what it meant. He scored through forty-nine lifetimes' worth of memories before he recalled that The Millennium Earl had once accused Marshall Cross of being 'The Player'.

Recognition dawned and he tensed, gripping his hammer so tightly it was a wonder the metal didn't bend. The Player: one given the Fourteenth's license.

"So that means..." His voice cut through the pre-battle silence and tension none too tactfully, and his teammates jumped like startled birds. Bookman, however, was calm, seeming to have been waiting for his apprentice to catch on, and nodded approvingly.

"Yes," he said. "Allen Walker is here."

...

* * *

**A/N:** Penny for your thoughts?

*Hands over a penny* (Heads-up, of course.)

* * *

//Edit//: Sorry for all the 'new update' messages you might get in your inbox. tends to chop out words and phrases when I update and I have to go back and re-add them all. Hopefully it makes for a smoother read.


	16. Chapter 16

Whatever Allen had been expecting when he finally caught up to the mass of demons heading south into the Tulaine region, it certainly wasn't this.

When Cecily had told him where all the demons were headed to for the Heart, he'd torn away from her and leaped back into the nearest Arc transporter. He rapidly traveled through sets of doors, zig-zagging from portal to portal until he reached the one closest to Osceol and continued on foot from there. He had to make himself go at a reasonable pace so he wouldn't kill himself sprinting all-out before reaching the village.

Still, he went much faster than what was probably safe, tearing through brush and grass, pushing his enhanced Noah's body to its limit in speed. All of his exorcist training came back to him: how to track, how to read directions from the stars, how to run beyond the point where the human body usually fails. He couldn't stop. He _had _to get there. He was already late, already behind.

What if he was too late? What if the Earl had succeeded in keeping him oblivious until the last moment and he would find nothing but the bloody corpses of exorcists strewn all about the Tulac Plains? Somehow he knew that the exorcists would be there, even if Cecily hadn't mentioned them. Surely if the Earl knew where the Heart was, the Order had found out as well. Even if they hadn't, who could miss this massive contingent of demons?

Yes, the exorcists would be there. Would he make it in time before the demons and exorcists reached each other? Before they fought?

He thought through the scenarios. If the demons had already reached them, then there was no hope. That many demons paired with the full force of the Noah Clan...Allen shook his head. It was impossible. The exorcists would be destroyed. His only hope lay in preemptive confrontation.

That way, at the very least he could give the exorcists fair warning about the demons and the Heart.

He put on another burst of speed. The demons were close; maintaining stamina wasn't as important. Their howls and calls were already pounding in his ears._ Please let me not be too late. Please, please, please...  
_

But when he finally caught up to the demon army, all he could see was chaos. It was a mob of claws and cannons, metal and Dark Matter. The demons didn't seem to be moving in any particular direction, the army scattered and unorganized.

There was no evidence of whether the demons had reached the exorcists or not. They certainly weren't continuing forward, though.

Demons were running around in confusion, stumbling and pushing each other out of the way as they ran—towards him? Why were they retreating? Had the Order really gathered a force that could fend this many demons?

And then he saw it.

What the hell _was_ it? He had to remind himself to keep running.

It was massive, almost as big as the army of demons, a dome of fog or cloud shrouding the area up ahead. A hurricane? A tornado? Either way, demons streamed out of it in swarms, and Allen could see that there were even more than he had originally thought.

_So many demons. _Had the Earl gathered the world's entire populace? And yet they were pulling out, retreating...

But they didn't continue to backtrack. As soon as they were out of the haze, the demons stopped and turned around, facing the swirling dome of fog again. Something—or someone—had restored order, he noted, the demons quieting slightly and huddling together in calm groups. Now they almost seemed eager to go back into the mist. His eyes widened in realization.

_That's where they are_, Allen thought. _The exorcists are in that fog.  
_

Osceol was still a good distance away, so the demons must have been sent to cut them off before they could reach the village. He didn't know how this mist came into play, but it looked like the demons were waiting for it to clear before charging back in.

He quickened his run. He needed to reach the exorcists before the mist rose, before the demons came. Even as his pulse jumped and his palms sweat in anxiety, he couldn't help but feel a wave of relief as he rushed forward. He wasn't too late, the battle had only started. And he could definitely make a difference.

_Sprint! _he commanded himself.

He realized he was charging into this with no plan, no course of action, but when had that ever helped him these past few months?

As he raced towards the line of demons, so numerous that they appeared to be one block of moving, rippling armor, the ones on the very edge seemed to sense him, turning their heads in curiosity. The closer and closer he came, the more demons shifted towards him, shouting roars and battle-cries into the air. A greeting, or a warning? He had no idea if they saw him as an enemy or an ally, and kept running forward anyway.

Realizing that they were being ignored, the demons began to cry at him, shouting insults and jeers, the dumber ones merely yelling in the excitement. It was too late to turn back. Almost all of the demons had eyes for him now.

He had nearly reached them. Two hundred yards.

_There's so many._

A hundred yards...

His feet pounded, faster, faster.

Fifty yards...

The demons crouched to attack. In the corner of his eye, he saw a petite figure atop an umbrella in the sky.

Thirty-five yards...

Thirty yards. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten—

He vaulted from the ground, soaring over the heads of the demons towards the mist. If he could just clear the line of demons, make it to the edge of the mist...

He smashed into the ground, spraying dirt and fine dust in his wake, into a ring of Level Threes. They hissed in surprise, stumbling backwards, and that was all he needed to shove his way through the last few throngs of demons to reach the dome of fog, disappearing into the muddled abyss.

It was like passing through a wall, the change of environment hitting him like a shock of ice water, and he recoiled instinctively. Now he understood why the demons had retreated.

_I can't see_.

Never had he felt so blind and helpless and exposed. He had to stop himself from turning around right there. He swore, forcing himself to continue on into the mist. The demons wouldn't stay at the sidelines forever, especially after he'd gallantly charged into the mist. Already he could hear them running in behind him, ready to come in a second wave.

He had been trying to ignore the familiar aura at the edge of his senses, but the sudden panic made him sloppy and his mental guard dropped. He felt_ her_ presence, throbbing, somewhere behind him. Would she issue the order to follow him in?

He charged forward blindly, feeling more like he was being chased down than coming to the aid of his comrades. A spiderweb caught in his face, his shriek cut off as he stumbled over a rock and nearly face-planted. He blinked his eyes uselessly, irritation blossoming in his chest when he saw nothing but gray.

_This is insane._ How could anyone navigate through this?

He soon lost the demons behind him, to his intense relief. The mist hadn't let up at all, and their storm into the field had been spurred by mere reaction to his own; as soon as his footsteps had faded from the limited hearing of the demons, they had become as lost and deranged as before. Now his rapid thrashing through the grass was the only sound within the vicinity.

He made sure to run a completely straight course. If he made any sort of turn, he would surely end up lost and disoriented. Hell, he was already lost and disoriented. How would he be able to find the exorcists?

His ears picked up the demon activity behind him. Were they getting closer? It was hard to tell, with his sense of hearing so acute. Everything sounded up close. In fact, he could hear exactly_ where_ the demons were approaching from, even if he couldn't tell how far back they were.

"Whoa!" He leapt out of the way of a snake, coiled up right where he'd been about to step. It hissed at him in the darkness. Jeez, that thing sounded big. What the hell was it doing in a prairie?

Wait...

He shouldn't have been to tell where the snake was if he couldn't see. But it was clearly—he listened closely—yes, right there.

He stilled. Could he possibly navigate using solely his _hearing?_

It was an absurd notion, but his Noah's hearing was undeniable, and if it could help him find the platoon of exorcists he knew was holed up somewhere in here...

_Alright, Fourteenth. Time to be of some use._ A chuckle sounded in his head. He smirked in response and took a deep breath.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And then he opened his ears.

A gasp left his lips before he realized. He could almost..._see_. Was this how bats felt? Seeing through sound?

He dashed forward more confidently now, marveling at the tinkling sound of dew hitting blades of grass as he cut through the field.

Crisp grass beneath his feet, creatures scurrying through the brush, the demons in the distance...He sorted through all the sounds, eyes closed, searching for any noise that would reveal the exorcists.

Footsteps...there were footsteps far ahead. Clumsy, rushed, but all together. He shut his eyes tighter, concentrating. Voices, oh so faint, barely whispers. Louder now. Louder, louder, louder.

His stride increased and he broke into a noisy gallop, no longer bothering to muffle his steps.

"_What the fuck do you mean he's here?_"

The whisper was like a pistol shot to his ears. He immediately dulled his hearing, now concentrating on the louder sounds only. Yes, those were the exorcists whispering. They were...He altered his course slightly..._This way! _

He followed the whispers, more and more certain as to who the whisperers were. His chest swelled in anticipation.

_"How do you know that?" _Was that Lavi's voice?

"_You're not making any sense, old man." _Kanda, that was Kanda.

_"Wait, that Noah is here? Right _now_?"  
_

_"Which way is Osceol?" _A sound like snapping branches a mere fifty yards ahead. He was close now. "_Fuck. I can't see anything."  
_

_"Wait!" _All movements stilled. He noticed that the platoon was even holding their breaths. Allen forced himself to continue on. Had they seen something? He wasn't close enough yet for them to hear him...

"_Someone's coming."  
_

The sudden clamor that erupted after that statement made Allen shut off his Noah-hearing entirely.

He was close enough anyway, if one of the exorcists had heard him approaching. He must have misjudged how far away he was.

Listening to the platoon with his regular hearing, he noted that they had switched from whispering to yelling. All of them seemed to have reached their limit, at the height of frustration and anxiety. He really couldn't blame them. The stakes were high, and the mist had a way of bringing uncertainty to already harried minds.

Right now someone was arguing about whether they should fight or retreat, someone else saying that that was stupid—where would they retreat to? Another was trying to keep order, his furious whispers drowned out by the senseless bickering.

Should he call out to them? Yes, better let them know it was him in case they attacked.

"Oi—"

"_QUIET!" _Kanda barked, and Allen almost thought he was speaking to him. The yelling stopped, and then everything was silent.

Nothing: not a whisper, a harsh breath, or light step on the grass could be heard. It was like the platoon had disappeared. Allen felt uneasy, his skin crawling, and repressed a shiver. The mist was so cold. There was no wind on the prairie to blow it away, and it hung thick over the field, casting a shadow darker than the night.

No movements. No sounds.

He was beginning to think he that maybe the mist was some sort of hallucinogen and he'd only thought he heard his old teammates, that maybe he'd been alone in the mist from the start.

And then Mugen sliced through the fog where his stomach had been.

Allen jerked backwards. His cloak was torn open, exposing a barely nicked abdomen, the blood already clotting. Even before he could recover his footing, Allen felt the familiar presence circle around him, twisting his arm up and behind his back and bringing the deadly blade to his throat.

"Found you," Kanda growled.

* * *

It was reflex, what he did.

It would've been wiser if he just stayed still and sorted things out with Kanda in a civil way. But as soon as he felt Kanda's grip on his forearm, as deadly as a steel trap, Allen could only react accordingly.

He swung his free arm around, twisting in a way that would have broken his pinned arm had he been in his white form, and even then he heard a sickening _pop _as his shoulder dislocated. The dramatic spin had been successful, though, causing Kanda to stumble and loosen his grip enough for Allen to yank his arm out. The exorcist fell into the mist, disappearing.

Allen grunted, holding his shoulder. Damn it. Now Kanda thought he was hostile. _  
_

_And too late to take it back_.

Allen's nerves were on fire. The way Kanda had crept up on him, unnoticed until the last second when he heard the singing of the blade as it swung towards him...He gulped. He'd had no idea how silent a killer Kanda could be.

A swish of grass.

His pulse jumped.

Footsteps in the opposite direction.

Allen focused on controlling his breathing, which was threatening to come out in noisy gasps. This game was way too dangerous.

Waiting for the blade to lurch out from the darkness, not able to see, not able to attack, only anticipate. He needed Kanda to know that he wasn't the enemy—that the enemy was out _there_, racing for the Heart, going unopposed, while they were stuck quarreling in this godforsaken mist. _  
_

_Thwip. _

Kanda's sword cut two yards of grass in one arcing sweep...in a patch of the field nowhere near where Allen was. He stifled a snort. So Kanda was just as lost as he was. That was reassuring.

More unsuccessful swings sounded, each in a different area all around Allen, but none near enough to give him away. He noted that Kanda's attacks were getting more frequent, less precise, and a lot noisier. He was beginning to lose his silent killing tactic, lashing out carelessly, with furious huffs and snarls as he once again cut nothing but air. Kanda's temper had always been his tragic flaw.

Allen felt no desire to prolong this humiliating situation, especially when Kanda could end up getting a lucky hit.

"Kanda—" A ragged growl escaped the exorcist's lips, and Allen could almost picture Kanda's head swinging around, blazing eyes trying to pinpoint his location in the mist.

Kanda struck out again, the sword a whole yard off target. The mist was truly an impediment for the exorcist; he would have never missed otherwise.

He stabbed at the air beside Allen's ear, but the sword immediately swung in an arc the opposite way, informing Allen that Kanda had had no idea how close he'd come to impaling him. The dark-haired exorcist seemed to be in a literal blind rage, slashing the air with unrestrained speed, the sound of the blade's passage an airy whistle.

He'd shouted panicked warnings to Kanda, letting him know that he wasn't attacking a demon here, that it was him, Allen. But either the mist had deafened Kanda as well as blinded him, or the sword-wielding exorcist knew full-well who he was fighting and continued on anyway. Allen swallowed his hurt at his former comrade's rejection. After all, it certainly wasn't the first time that Kanda had wanted him dead.

Suddenly dirt flew up from the ground, stinging Allen's eyes. Kanda had thrust Mugen into the ground, closed the distance between them in two lunges, and swung the blade up from the earth, missing Allen's chin by mere millimeters.

He rubbed the dirt out of his eyes—not that being blind really mattered. The hesitation cost him though, as Mugen swung and cut through one of his sleeves as he brought his arm up to guard. Feeling Mugen finally cut something tangible, Kanda closed the distance once more, lashing out, and Allen felt the scrape of fingertips against his chest as he lurched out of reach, leaving Kanda with nothing but air in his grasp.

Neither of them could see, but Allen had the distinct advantage of being able to hear where attacks were coming from, though he made no counterattack of his own. He could hear where Kanda was: approaching from the right in a tight curve, the whistle of the blade affirming, and then a mumbled swear as Allen dodged.

Kanda reprised, thrusting his sword in a swift double lunge, and Allen barely brought up his Innocence-armored arm in time.

They whirled in the mist, circling each other over and over. Riposte. Block. Lunge. Dodge.

Allen wiped the sweat from his brow, panting. He lost track of Kanda's shadow for a second, frantically seeking the sound of a footstep or gasp of breath to relocate him.

And then somehow Kanda was behind him, wrenching his arm upward into the same position as before, only this time hooking his arm around Allen's shoulder, locking him in place. He stomped on his instep for good measure and Allen gasped in pain.

Kanda was so close it looked like the two were embracing, except for the fact that he held Mugen to his throat.

The blade had sheathed itself under his jaw, in the curve above his Adam's apple. Despite all the close encounters he'd had with Mugen, the blade had never actually met his flesh before, and he was surprised to find that it wasn't steel-cold, but rather it was hot, burning like blood and life were rushing through the metal.

Of course, it was Kanda's Innocence, as much alive as Kanda himself, but Allen had suspected something more...chilling than the sharpness pressed threateningly against his skin.

"Don't make a fucking move," Kanda hissed in his ear behind him, and although Allen felt the fury that radiated from the body restraining him, he also noticed the fear lacing his words, a certain trepidation.

Was he truly afraid of _him_, the gutless _moyashi_? Was cursed skin all it took to tame the arrogance and haughtiness of the proudest exorcist in the Dark Order?

Allen didn't attempt to break Kanda's hold, nor call him out on his uncharacteristic wariness—not with his seething Innocence so close to slicing his jugular.

"Kanda, it's me," he said stupidly. Of course he knew it was him. Kanda's grip on him tightened, fueled by a surge of rage.

"Didn't I tell you I would kill you if I ever saw you again?" His words were bitter, menacing in his ear.

"Well technically you can't see me..."

Kanda's blade-hand twitched, and the sword nicked the skin of his throat just barely. Blood seeped sluggishly from the wound before his Noah skin regenerated. The Noah were vulnerable to Innocence as exorcists were to Dark Matter, but it took a fair amount of power and malice to leave mark on a Noah's skin, more than just a mere slip of a blade.

Allen didn't doubt, however, that Kanda did not posses that power, and he chose his words carefully so as not to trigger a violent response.

"Kanda," he spoke, in his most reasonable, peace-making voice. "Please let me explain myself. This has all been a huge misunderstanding. I don't know what everyone's been saying about me, but I haven't betrayed the Order, I haven't joined the Earl. When I disappeared that night, it wasn't because I left. I was captured. I never willingly joined the Noah. You _need_ to understand." He held his breath, waiting for Kanda to cut him off, or just literally cut him.

The exorcist remained silent behind him.

He continued, more hopeful. "We have to hurry, Kanda. The Earl knows where the Heart is. If we don't get out of this fog soon—"

"URR-_AAHH!_"

A sword stabbed through the darkness, almost spearing him in the leg.

Allen kicked up, startled, wrenching himself free of Kanda's grip. The exorcist had had such a tight hold on him that the movement felt like he'd snapped both his shoulder blades in half, but he hadn't been able to help it. So engrossed was he with his confession to Kanda, he hadn't heard the wild footsteps stomping through the grass until the opposing exorcist had let out a battle-cry.

"_Noah!_"

The sword came at him again, this time at a side swipe. Now free, Allen swerved out of the way with ease, seeming to bend around the blade at a perfect angle to retaliate, agile as a snake. But Allen didn't strike, merely dodging again as the exorcist attacked, roaring curses at him as he stumbled in the mist. Kanda, just as startled as he'd been at the sudden attack, finally came out of his daze, and Allen heard him take a step forward.

"Lucas?" The exorcist's sword met the flesh of Allen's forearm as he deflected it, using the toughened skin of his left arm as armor. "Lucas—wait!" Kanda lunged forward with his sword, searching out the other exorcist's weapon in an attempt to lock blades and subdue him.

"Kanda-san, there's a Noah right behind you! Bookman said it was Allen Walker." _  
_

"Shut up, I know!"

"What? You—"

"_Yuu!_" The voice sounded far off, echoing in the vastness of the field. "Where the hell are you? You just up and disappeared when panda-jiji said Allen was here. Damn it, where is everyone? _Marie, can you hear them?_" he added, in a whisper only Allen could hear from this distance.

Marie! So that's who'd heard him approaching and warned the platoon.

"He's here!" the exorcist—Lucas?—shouted, swinging his sword at Allen again. Kanda once again blocked the blade, the two swords scraping against each other as they locked at the hilt. Allen watched helplessly, unsure of what to do.

"_Get out of here!_" Kanda hissed at Allen as he fended blows from the exorcist. His look of disbelief was lost on the mist-impaired fighters.

_Kanda_ was letting him get away?

After a moment's hesitation he nodded to himself, and then darted off. He knew better than to wait to be told twice; Kanda would never give him this chance again.

Lucas continued to rain down blows with his sword, completely oblivious to the fact that he was attacking his own platoon leader while the 'enemy' slipped away. Allen pressed his fingers to Kanda's forearm, letting him know where he was and to silently convey his thanks. Doing that under normal circumstances would have cost him a few severed fingers, if not his whole arm, but now, with this being a special situation and Kanda's sword otherwise preoccupied, the dark-haired exorcist only shrugged him off and huffed.

"Leave," he commanded under his breath, and without waiting for a response, he pushed his blade forward with a grunt of exertion, flinging the other exorcist's off and sending him back a few feet.

"Let's _go_, Lucas."

"But the Noah—"

"He's dead. Whatever. Forget about him. Our mission is to retrieve the Heart. So _let's go_."

Lucas blubbered confusedly, and then gave a swift nod and a '_Hai!' _after realizing the danger in disobeying an order from Kanda.

They started to run through the grass to meet up with their team, and Allen's ears pricked. They were headed straight for the demons waiting outside.

"Not that way!" he whisper-yelled. His voice was hoarse and cracked on the _Not_. Lucas whirled, asking what the sound was, and Kanda told him to shut up again.

Allen slipped through the grass—careful to tread as silently as possible—to where Kanda was. It was so easy to locate things by sound, and he snuck up, a ghost, to Kanda's left shoulder—the opposite side Lucas was on.

"That way," he murmured, steering Kanda slightly so he faced the direction to Osceol. A low grunt from Kanda was the only indication he heard Allen at all.

"Alright. This way, Lucas. Call that _baka usagi_ and the old man this way. Marie, you can hear me, right?"

"I'll meet up with you guys at the village. For now, I'll try to stir things up among the demons, distract them somehow," Allen said.

"_Move_, Lucas. The demons are probably halfway to the village by now."

"_Hai_, sir!"

They moved away, trampling down grass as they went through the field, and he heard the rest of the platoon converge and reunite. After a few hurried explanations, they set off towards the village at a loping run. No time for any more stalling or setbacks. The mist was starting to rise, visibility creeping in much slower than it had left, coming in with the dawn.

Allen turned and headed back towards the demons.

A silly grin rose to his lips as he ran, and he had to press his mouth shut to keep a joyous laugh from escaping. What had just happened?

He was still an outcast, still on the run, with events quickly progressing towards a winner-take-all climax. He was stuck in his black form, Innocence out of commission, shoulders aching almost as much as his head did. He was heading towards the largest gathering of demons since Edo, a record breaking force, with a plan to wreak as much havoc as possible by doing God knows what.

But he was excited. He was _smiling_.

He had been given a second chance.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Whew! Sorry for the wait. Too long of a chapter?

Let me know if I'm drawing this out too long, clogging the story's arteries with gobs of unnecessary detail. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed.

**REVIEW** please! And I love critiques too.


	17. Chapter 17

The demon swayed on his jointed metal legs, wishing his evolution to Level Two had given him a floating body instead of this one.

His mouth hung open, breath coming heavy from behind his fangs. He was still panting from their long trek to the plains. But even exhausted, the demon was anxious, twitchy, shifting restlessly back and forth as he waited for the order to advance. Never had he seen so many exorcists at once. What had Noah-sama said? Five of them? Six? A whole platoon's worth. Even shrouded by this cloud-like thing he could smell their souls, taste their righteousness, _feel _the life that thrummed through them and called to his demon senses. He salivated behind his fangs.

Every demon knew that crushing the souls of exorcists was ten times more gratifying than killing a mere human. And destroying Innocence got you in good graces with the Earl, not to mention you sky-rocketed in demon evolution. One of the implicit requirements of ascension into Level Three was a couple harvested fragments under your belt and a hefty exorcist kill count.

The Level Two figured that if he could take out even one exorcist on this expedition then he would immediately rise to Level Three. The Noah had told them so, right before setting out. And if a demon could capture some special Innocence fragment, a heart or something, then that demon would evolve to god-like status, second only to the Noah Clansmen themselves.

So even with the mist threatening to close in around them all and the uncertainty of the dangers within, the Level Two was ready to fight.

Unfortunately, the exorcists inside didn't seem to be in any hurry to come out.

Besides the demon army's own noise of moaning and chittering, the night was quiet. Silent, even. Too much time had passed without any activity and the demons were beginning to get impatient—not the best mentality for a conglomeration of tantrum-prone death machines. There was a brief flare of excitement when apparently a Noah had rushed in from the woods and headed straight into the fog, but he hadn't even acknowledged the demons, much less given them any orders to charge in. They settled back grudgingly, disappointed and even more restless. The air practically hummed with all of their pent-up energy. If Road-sama didn't give the signal to advance soon, the Level Two was sure he would burst.

_I smell them. I feel them. They're right __**there**__. _A demon could go through his entire existence without ever meeting an exorcist, and now there was a whole group of them like sitting ducks as close as a hundred yards away. For a second he allowed himself to hate the Noah keeping him from going after the exorcists. The scent of Innocence was so strong in the air he almost felt the instinctive fear rise up in him, his senses warning him that danger was edging closer. He looked to the sky, where the full moon hovered on the edge of the wall of mist, and moaned.

Suddenly a Level Three next to him perked up, craning his head toward the mist. The Level Two followed his gaze curiously. Was there something coming from the woods? Or maybe the exorcists were finally coming out of the mist! He couldn't wait to get his jaws in one of their—

He saw a white flash in front of him.

And then: _Don't move._

The demon knew immediately that if the voice had asked him to slit his own throat, he would have done so without hesitation. This was a voice he knew he must obey, a command his very being ached to fulfill. The demon didn't even think to question it. He froze.

Unbeknownst to the Level Two, every single one of the demons surrounding him had just received the same mental order, and soon the entire copse—a total of thirty demons—stood blank and frozen. The next order was issued with such consternation that the demons could almost feel the choked regret running through the command, but all of them still willingly, cluelessly, obeyed.

_Self-destruct._

The peaceful night exploded into noise. Demons of all levels detonated, their souls shuddering out of existence. Road whipped her head around, half-startled off her perch. The demons in the vicinity scuttled away in panic, clumsily grasping the concept that they had been _this close _to being blown to oblivion.

The exorcists in the distance looked behind them uneasily and then stepped up their pace.

After a few hazy seconds, the field cleared, revealing blackened, twisted grass. The handful of demons were gone. Without their souls ever finding rest.

Allen Walker lowered his hand from his left eye—a futile attempt to block the images of thirty souls begging to be saved, of phantom bones shattering as a result of his command.

He had cleared an entire score of demons. Without the use of his Innocence.

He'd never felt so much like a failure.

He hadn't dared try seeing how far he could cast his order; even destroying thirty souls was almost too much to bear. Without Innocence, he hadn't had a choice but to use his Noah's will. He kept telling himself that just to keep his mind from breaking.

As the nearby demons came out of their stupor, Allen realized that the element of surprise was now lost and it would be much harder to get a one-up on the demons again. Any Noah in charge would no doubt order the demons to feel no obligation to obey his commands, and as the Fourteenth, he couldn't override the orders of any Clansmen above him.

The army swarmed around him, hostile and furious, and Allen felt his throat dry. Without his Noah authority, he had no other weapons, and he wished he'd thought of that before blowing his cover and wiping out a mere fraction of the fighting force of demons. He had just stabbed a pointy stick into a massive hive, and now the bees were coming.

This not-planning thing wasn't really working out for him.

The demons came at him in a frenzy. The air filled with Dark Matter, black and crackling with the energy of thousands and hundreds of attacks readied and fixed on him. There were more demons than he had originally anticipated. _Much _more. He'd known the Earl had called for the whole continent's worth of demons, but he hadn't really grasped the sheer amount that that number entailed. No lone exorcist stood a chance against this kind of force, not even one with a Point Breaker Innocence. Not that he could even use it, he thought angrily.

Without any other options, Allen could only hope that the only person capable of stopping them would do so before there was nothing left of him but a scorch on the ground. And she did. Barely just in time.

"Oi, oi, oi," Road called, and though she said it passively, Allen couldn't imagine the kind of power it took to restrain so many demons when they were almost completely lost to their killing-intent. The demons jerked back in the whiplash of her command, jaws still snapping and eyes rolling in their sockets, frothing at the mouth.

Allen let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He honestly didn't think that Road would have let the demons kill him there—it wasn't her style, a quick death like that—but he could never really be sure with her. For a moment there, he'd had no other choice but to stand and except his fate. But evidently he was not fated to die a grisly death by demons. At least, not by these ones. Not yet.

Still completely at another's mercy, Allen did his best to look completely nonthreatening, which wasn't too hard considering he had no weapons. Gradually the demons got a handle of themselves, the bloodlust fading from their eyes, and they settled back slightly, never taking their sights off of him. They were still ready to strike, as soon as their mistress let them.

He stared up at said mistress, who had lowered slightly in order to be near enough to see him. No Level Fours seemed to be near her, although they had to be here somewhere, but he didn't dare take his eyes of Road for more than a few heartbeats to check. There _were_ Level Threes near her though, and he eyed them warily. They hovered around Road like bees defending their queen, and Allen had to remind himself that unlike a queen bee, Road was more dangerous than all of her defenders combined.

It wasn't fair, then, that she should look so innocuous. Sitting there on top of Lero in her skirts and shiny shoes, with no worries other than contemplating new ways to torture him and occasionally pleasing the Earl, while he stood, ragged and beaten down, with the task of taking on the largest force of demons in recorded history, which he would somehow have to accomplish without the use of his Innocence.

A long silence stretched out between them in which Allen wondered what Road would do, if he should say anything. Whether or not Road was just biding her time before killing him. Clearly it was on Road to make the first move, but she was just floating there, a thoughtful pout on her lips.

Road was giving him a long, considering look, stretching out his wire-thin patience and nerves. She looked like she was debating on whether to fight or to talk, or maybe it just seemed that way because that was what Allen was thinking.

If she attacked him here he didn't know if he could win. It would be very close. The only times he had really physically fought her was during the intensive training just after being converted into a Noah, and he was sure that even then she had held back just the slightest bit. The scariest part was, he didn't even know the full extent of her powers—didn't know if all that he knew of her abilities and strengths only touched on what she was truly capable of.

A burning sensation along his spine made him aware of just how clenched his shoulders were, but he figured it was better to be tense right now and worry about the soreness later. Sweat dripped from his hairline and raced along his jaw, tickling as it cooled, but he made no move to wipe it away. Road made him nervous, he realized. No—she made him _uncertain_.

Finally, she grinned at him. Road leaned back on her palms, legs dangling from her perch, completely at ease. "Cousin," she greeted.

Allen stared at her. There was something about her calling him cousin that made his heart beat faster, muscles twitching. Too familiar. Or maybe...the way it was supposed to be.

"Road," he nodded back at her, playing along and keeping the conversation deceptively light. Both he and Road were walking on glass right now, coiled and ready to spring at any provocation.

"Why are you here?" he asked. Because just because Cecily had told him that the Earl had assembled the entire continent's worth of demons and called all of the Noah together to find the Heart, it didn't necessarily mean that Road knew any specifics of where the Heart was. She could have been trailing the exorcists across countries, waiting for them to lead her to the Heart, and wouldn't know the Tulac Plains as the Heart's location from any other area in the region.

Road kicked her legs back and forth. "I'm here because Millennie asked me to."

"Of course. Always following _Millennie's_ orders." he said, no small amount of disdain in his voice.

"Obviously," she said. And now there was that annoyance that seeped into her voice whenever he questioned her blind loyalty to the Earl. "I'm the Earl's Dreams, after all."

Now it was Allen's turn to feel a spark of annoyance run through him. "You mean the Noah's Dreams, Road. We are the _Noah_ Clansman."

"How nice that you finally admit it."

"What? No! I—" He pressed his lips together angrily. "I'm an exorcist."

Road made a face that looked as if she wanted to roll her eyes at him, but didn't want to risk looking away.

Allen grit his teeth together, hating how Road could always get under his skin like that. Just something about Road threw him off balance, made it harder to remember where exactly his loyalties lay and what path he was truly meant to walk. As long as he had known her, he couldn't understand Road. Haughty. Impulsive. Sadistic. Naive and cunning. Whimsical, brazen, and deadly. A jumble of contradictions. And she seemed to have _him_ all figured out...

The swing of her boots caught his attention and Allen drew out of his thoughts to focus on her.

_Stupid. _He knew better than to let his mind wander when face-to-face with Road. She could offer candy and sweets to someone and then plunge a candle into their heart all in the same breath, all with the same dangerous smile.

And she was smiling at him now, her head tilted in a questioning way.

"How _is_ your Noah?" she asked, the sly grin twisting the corners of her mouth up. And then he felt the unmistakable probe of her powers, searching.

Allen clamped down on his mind. Hard.

"Fine," he said tightly. Road narrowed her eyes.

"Is that so?"

He knew that if he shut Road out she shouldn't be able to reach him, but somehow he still felt violated. She was influencing him, he realized, calling out with her powers as the Noah of Dreams. _Cousin. Brother. Fourteenth. Come. Come out and play. _Allen wrenched himself from her conscience. He would not lose himself again.

She sighed. "Such a tight leash you keep your Noah on, Allen."

Well, he couldn't disagree with that. Unlike Tyki, who wrested control over his mind back and forth with his Noah, Allen didn't have any trouble at all shoving the Fourteenth to the back of his mind, bringing him to the forefront on his own terms only. Having the Fourteenth semi-possess him was sort of like having Timcanpy around; he had that sense of an _other_ presence—that he was never truly alone—but he was never really hindered by it. Now he wondered if he might be suppressing the Fourteenth too much. If his mentality wasn't gradually deteriorating, he thought sarcastically, clearly something was amiss.

Allen glanced at Road with one of his own calculating stares, wondering how many of their interactions had been between him and Road, or him and the First Noah. Maybe the Road that had once been human was completely gone, and now she was just the First Noah talking behind a petite body and sugary voice. It at least explained the paradoxes of her personality.

But he still felt that, to some degree, at certain rare and far-stretched moments, Road acted as the young girl she must have been at some point before reincarnated as a Noah. He remembered the fear, denial, and outrage during his own conversion as a Clansman, but at least he'd had some notion of what was happening to him. Road had probably been terrified, horrified by whatever transformation that had manifested without warning in herself. Allen had heard once that when Skinn's _stigmata_ had first started to appear, they came as bleeding sores, festering across his forehead. The pain had lasted for days, driving him to such madness that, Allen thought, seeing him today, he'd never really recovered from. If a big, burly guy like Skinn had been devitalized like that, how had Road fared?

_God damn you, Millennium Earl. _The Noah Clansmen were victims—created, used, and expended just like the pitiful souls of demons. Allen felt like he was, finally, beginning to understand how Road acted and thought. If he used the right words, maybe—_maybe—_he could convince her to stop this mindless obeying and destroying, get her to do the right thing for the good of the world. Show her that humans were not the ones who deserved her hate.

With new confidence, Allen looked up, a small grin on his lips. And saw—

Nothing.

Road was gone. The demons were gone.

He blinked, dizzy. Oh God, he was finally insane.

Allen was still surrounded by the mist, but somehow he knew that this wasn't reality anymore. This wasn't real. Thoughts swam in his head listlessly, as if he was in a dream.

The mist around him had an ethereal quality to it, almost shimmering, and power crackled through it like static electricity. Vaguely he felt a nagging feeling, like he didn't have time to meander around in a dream, but the smell of ozone in the air was intoxicating, a sickly sweet perfume, which muddled his thoughts and made him feel heady and languid.

He was relaxed, at ease; wherever he was, there were no demons here. No war going on. His eye deactivated and he let out a happy sigh.

Ahead, he saw tiny glimmers reflected in the fog. Fireflies. That's right—it was almost summertime. It had been almost a year since he was last in the Dark Order.

Not wanting to dwell in that train of thought, he stepped forward through the mist, following the fireflies, inhaling the dizzying perfume in the air. He was in some sort of meadow now, tiny white blossoms budding in the grass. They too seemed to glow, even though no light penetrated the cloud surrounding him. He bent down to pick a flower, wanting to identify the sweet odor in the air, and pricked his finger on the stem.

A drop of blood beaded on his finger. It didn't hurt, but he was almost startled out of his haze that he was bleeding at all. He felt indignant for a moment, and a little betrayed. He wasn't _supposed _to bleed. The blood spread, staining the white of his glove and giving off the same intoxicating scent as all the flowers around him.

And then there were hands closing around his palm—clever, child's hands. A soothing light appeared between them, and the wound on his finger closed and sealed, the blood disintegrating into ash. Allen looked up curiously and saw Road. She was like a sprite, all pointy teeth and grinning mischievously.

She was in a dress that he'd never seen before, more airy and flowing than any of her normal clothes, and she wasn't wearing any shoes or stockings. He glanced down at his own attire, the same Victorian-style clothing that he always wore, and at the snag in his glove where he'd pricked his finger. Other than the tear, there was no mark on his skin to indicate a wound at all. Even the blood had disappeared.

"I never knew you could heal," he said wonderingly, recalling that she had healed all of the scars and burns from her tortures too. His skin was even more perfect than it had been when he was merely human. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a smug expression on her face.

"I can heal anything I dream."

"Even heal this?" He brought her fingers to the left side of his face, covering his eye. She giggled. A light came from her fingers, bright and warm. He felt the curse mark zipper up into his skin until nothing remained but soft flesh. He gasped at the feeling, the incredible comfort brought with having unmarred skin, the feeling of all his burdens, duties, tribulations fading along with the scar that Mana had given him...

He jerked, tearing himself from the dream. He was back. Road and the demons were back.

"Stop it!" he snapped, gripping the left half of his face with clenched fingers. Road laughed at him, unconcerned that he had broken out of her vision. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Why, _Allen_," she sang in a mocking voice, feigning surprise. "Do you resent your precious Mana for cursing you? For throwing you into this war? You know, if he hadn't dragged you into this, you would have never had to kill anyone. But because of him, you have that eye that can see demons, that can see their suffering, their eternal torment. Because of him you have to kill. Call it whatever you want—saving souls, exorcising—but there's blood on your hands now. All because of—"

"SHUT UP!"

"I'm only showing you your own dreams, Allen. Afraid of the truth?"

"They're not mine!" he nearly sobbed. "You're the one who's—"

"You can't even control your Noah, can you?" she asked, almost clinically. Allen felt as if she'd slapped him. Of course he was in control—she didn't see him going all bipolar like Tyki (or herself) did she? In fact, he hadn't experienced the sort of mental blankness felt when the Fourteenth took over since that first time during the war, and he had certainly improved his control since...

He was back in the dream world again.

And this time, Lenalee was there.

Allen moaned, too confused and conflicted and tired to present a strong front to Road anymore, who was surely watching on the outside as his mind deteriorated in front of her. He wanted to go home. Back to the Order to his friends, as an exorcist—back to where everything made sense. He couldn't deal with all of these mental battles, power struggles between him and his Noah, him and Road, him and the Millennium Earl.

"What's wrong, Allen?" It was her voice. Lenalee's voice. Allen sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands so he wouldn't have to see her. She wasn't real. She wasn't real. She wasn't real.

"Allen-kun?" _Not real not real not real._

"Road. _Please_, Road."

And again he found himself back in the field with the demons hovering, feeling as though he had just traveled a great distance. He suspected that this time, though, he had broken out of the dream only because she allowed him to.

"I can barely feel him in there at all," Road was saying, as if no time had passed. And then some sort of power _seized_ him, literally gripping at his skin. _"Oi, Fourteenth! Can you hear me? Oi! Musician!" _Her voice boomed through his head, bringing with it memories of painful headaches from his earlier Noah days.

But he felt no stir in him, no presence of the Fourteenth looming to the surface. If his skin hadn't still been charcoal, he might have believed the Noah was gone completely.

Road huffed in annoyance. "Jeez, Allen. You can't use your Innocence, you can't use your Noah. What does that make you?"

Allen assumed that the question was rhetorical and didn't answer. He didn't have one, anyway.

He realized that in the space of a few minutes, Road had brought his heroic notions of wiping out the demon army—so that Kanda's platoon could find the Heart unopposed—to the ground and stomped on them with her stockinged feet. His resolve had diminished, his mentality in shreds, and all Allen could think of was that he wanted desperately to just rest for a moment.

He was completely at her mercy now (or maybe he had always been) and he had to tell himself that it hadn't all been a huge waste. He had taken out _many_ demons—more than a Beginner platoon could do in months—and succeeded in his duty to further delay the army for Kanda. He'd kept all of his promises, and if he died, he would only be helping the Order by lowering the Noah's numbers. The exorcists would find the Heart—they _had_ to—and then the Order could finally defeat the Earl and everything would be saved and all that he had worked for as an exorcist would come true.

But Road would not just let him have peace.

"How about we make a deal, Allen?"

"A deal?" Allen rose wearily from the ground. It was clear he would not be dying tonight. Not by Road's hands, at least. "And what makes you think I would ever trust you?"

Road giggled. "Don't you?"

For some reason, although this conversation had no correlation whatsoever to the one he'd had with his master the day of his escape from the Order, Allen couldn't help remembering what Cross had said. Uttering those same words with the same bemused tone, like he had any goddamn idea at all of his innermost feelings and desires.

_"Are you asking me if I love someone, master?"_

_"Don't you?"_

Allen looked up at her with tired eyes. "Fine," he said. "A deal."

Road's smile got even wider.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to all of those who still read this despite the atrocious update timing. After reading through all of this, I realized that although there are over 4k words, nothing interesting actually happened. Please don't kill me. I promise I'll update soon.

In other news: I've noticed that a lot of you are wondering about the Road/Allen pairing in this story, and yes, there haven't been any clear-cut moments so far. But I don't think Allen is the type of guy to fall for her just because she's cute/sadistic/pretty/persuasive/etc. Road is a Noah, and in Allen's mind, that equates very simply to 'the enemy'. The fun of their relationship is that Allen _wants_ to hate her so badly, but he can't. He can't help but want to believe the best in everybody, to trust everybody.

While their relationship in this story has seemed platonic so far, the pairing lies in between the lines. Their relationship will develop in the future, I promise you. Just give them time ;)

Oh, and **thanks for reading**. You better review. None of that "update soon" stuff either—I already promised I'd do that. Real critiques, people! I would appreciate it and love it so much. Thanks!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Due to some arising questions about Allen's apparent inability to use his Noah, namely when Road was saying, "I can barely feel him in there at all," and "You can't use your Innocence, you can't use your Noah.", I thought I'd break my rule about putting author's notes _before _a chapter, and clarify.

Allen has not lost his Noah powers. He has buried the Fourteenth deep inside his mind, so deep Road would not be able to reach the Memory and influence it or tamper with it in some way. The Fourteenth is still at Allen's beck and call. The significance of Road not being able to feel the Fourteenth is that it's sort of a wake up call to Allen. Like, "Hey! If I'm so close to this Noah Memory that we _occupy the same mind_, why is it that it's been bothering me about as much as innocent, ever-helpful Timcanpy (a.k.a. not really bothering me at all)?"

Allen's greatest fear right now, which has just been stirred up in the past chapter, is that he will end up suppressing his Noah too much and one day might lose control again. So far, Allen has come far in his relationship with his Noah, actually acknowledging it as the Fourteenth and not some hated Noah gene that stripped his title as an exorcist. He's finally tamed the headaches that used to rampage through his frontal skull, and although he hasn't yet gained true maturity (this is why he can't change into his white form and use his Innocence) he has still proven to have advanced beyond the powers of Noah like Debitto, who, I don't know if you remember, got his ass kicked by Allen a couple of chapters ago. Of course, Debitto had only half of his Noah powers at the time, but I don't want to get too in depth. My A/N will be longer than my chapter at this rate. Anyway, hope that clears things up.

Enjoy!

* * *

By the time the sun rose, nothing was left of the mist but lingering humidity and a wet smell in the air.

Despite the moisture all around him, beading on his nose and streaking through his hair, Kanda felt dizzy with dehydration. Well, not dehydration—he was just thirsty. Really thirsty. Losing grip on his sword (which he had refused to sheathe since the mist first descended on them) kind of thirsty. But he wasn't dehydrated dammit. Exorcists didn't get dehydrated.

"Yuu? Careful there, man. I think you're a little dehy—" Lavi quieted as a chunk of his red hair—the one he kept having to flip out of his face since he'd lost his headband—fluttered to the ground, and gulped. He'd barely seen the sword move. Whatever was making Kanda slow his pace and sag his shoulders certainly wasn't affecting his reflexes.

Kanda readjusted his grip on Mugen and sighed. "Long night," he said, which was just about the closest Lavi had ever seen Kanda come to apologizing. He really _was_ sick on something.

Lavi looked over his shoulder to survey their little procession, the platoon of exorcists—plus Bookman and himself—tasked with retrieving the Heart Innocence before the Earl could destroy it and inevitable apocalypse ensued. What he saw didn't look particularly inspiring. Everyone had a slightly dead look on their face, half-lidded eyes and slacked jaws. Kanda made a _Che_ sound and Lavi looked forward again. "We should be right on top of the village by now."

Lavi glanced around the field and saw nothing but the same shrubs and grasses they'd been seeing all night. Either the village was literally under a rock or something, or the platoon had made a wrong turn somewhere. Lavi didn't think he could handle being lost right now. Actually, he had doubts the platoon could even survive long enough if they had to backtrack and find their way again. All of them had been walking since yesterday morning, nearly twenty-four hours ago, running on nothing but adrenaline and flasks of warm water.

Now their water supply was dangerously depleted. Krory was down to one blood-bottle. And Kanda was apologizing.

They were in deep shit, for sure.

This could not be happening, Lavi decided. The village had to be there, somewhere, and they were just too wiped to see it. It all had to be a mirage. Or a reverse-mirage—_not _seeing anything in front of you.

Ahead of him, Kanda came to a sudden halt. The dark haired exorcist looked considering for a moment, squinting across the plain, and then he was racing ahead at double-pace, muttering "Finally" under his breath. Lavi glanced in the direction he was headed and saw nothing.

"No, Kanda. It's just a mirage." Lavi said, slowing his sad excuse of a walk to a stop. "...Or a reverse-mirage," he added to himself in undertone. Maybe he was the one not-seeing things? Now he was confused.

But then as he focused, narrowing his eye to peer through the waves of heat, he saw something pop up along the horizon. The village.

"Oh, thank God._ Lodare Dio. Merci, merci, merci..._"

Krory, Lucas, and Marie seemed to come alive from their zombie-like marching, now headed purposefully towards the village. Had they the energy they probably would have started skipping. The exorcists were too exhausted to speak, but their eyes shone with gratitude for whatever god had taken pity on them. Lavi could hear Bookman muttering praises in old Sanskrit and Latin and huffed to himself. _Show off. _

The village was structured a lot like a fort: fortifications made of wood planks with entrance gates and even a quaint little watchtower. The village didn't favor defense as much as a traditional fort would; the walls seemed to be built more for fencing off territory than protecting from any specific attack, and Lavi couldn't see any weapons peeping out from over the tops.

Kanda was storming up to the gate when it opened a bit and a curious face peered out, which Lavi thought was a good thing since he didn't think Kanda was in a knock-on-the-door-politely kind of mood. It was either open the gate, or bust it down. Once the man at the gate got a glimpse of the Rose Cross on Kanda's exorcist jacket, the gate swung wide to allow the rest of the weary platoon to trudge into the village.

There were a few seconds when Lavi took in the rows of houses, people tending small areas of growing crops, children playing in a dirt clearing, before Kanda turned on the man who had let them in, all but grabbing him by the shirt collar.

"Where is the Heart?"

People were looking curiously at the rag-tag group of newcomers, now with a dose of caution as they recognized the crests all the exorcists wore on the breast of their jackets and eyed the sword Kanda was holding. The man Kanda had rounded on looked particularly concerned by the glinting, unsheathed edge of Kanda's Innocence, and wasted no time in telling Kanda that he had no idea what heart he was specifying.

"Please, sir," he was saying. "We're not a very large village. I assume your Order has a very important reason for requesting such a...body part, but if you need such a sacrifice, why come here? The village is peaceful and we keep to ourselves. We have done nothing to anger the Vatican, and if they require a sacrificial organ, why not—"

"No, you idiot. Not an actual _heart_." Kanda looked slightly queasy. Did these people honestly believe the Order would do something like that? "We came here for the Heart. The Innocence fragment." At the blank stare Kanda received, he stifled a roar of frustration and turned on the villagers who had gathered to see who the newcomers were, ignoring the way his vision swam as he spun around.

"Does anyone know who or where the Heart is? Anyone? The Innocence fragment!" Kanda scanned the rows of confused faces. Some looked worried, some baffled. Others looked at him like his sanity was questionable.

Kanda's mouth was dry and his head ached, and these backroads country simpletons didn't seem to understand a word he was saying. He wondered if they would crack down under authority-they seemed to have the right mix of fear and respect for the Vatican. He raised his voice and said, "We're exorcists from the Dark Order, sent on a mission on behalf of the Vatican. There is an Innocence fragment called the Heart and we demand that you hand it over."

"Chill, Kanda. I don't think they know what you're talking about." That was Lavi, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him.

No _duh. _Kanda was seriously considering lopping Lavi's arm off if it dared stay _one more second _on his shoulder, when Lavi turned and spoke to the growing crowd.

"Sorry, guys. We're looking for this special...glowing-thing. Have any of you noticed any unnatural phenomenon? Something weird or unexplainable? It's sort of this magical object, and the Order needs to get it before the bad guys do." The villagers turned to face each other, murmuring and asking questions. They seemed to take the question seriously, and soon enough, a few hands went up among the crowd. A man stepped forward.

"Well, I don't know about a fragmer or whatsit, but Rebecca has this special jewel-thing that she uses." The people gathered behind him made various sounds of agreement, nodding their heads in support.

"So Rebecca has it?" Lavi asked, prompting the man to continue.

"You said it was glowy? Does this heart or whatever glow green?" The exorcist platoon nodded excitedly. Even Kanda widened his eyes and stood a little straighter. He had stuck the point of his sword into the ground and was leaning on it like an old man with a cane, now yanking it from the ground and trying to regain his balance. The man noticed and glanced at him, concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Kanda said wearily. He didn't even snap. "Where is this girl?" More villagers spoke up, confident and eager now that they knew they could help. They all seemed quite fond of the alleged Heart-carrier. And none of them appeared to be concerned that the platoon might have been sent to steal their 'special jewel' or that they might harm Rebecca.

It just went to show how far-reaching Central's influence was. These people seemed instinctively loyal to the Vatican, as if they somehow knew that any form of disobedience would be met with deadly retribution—though Central had never been violent in the past.

The majority of the crowd offered to walk them to the girl, making all sorts of comments of approval about her and telling the exorcists stories that Kanda really could have cared less about.

They followed the villagers deeper into the village, past huts and tents until they reached the far end of the territory. There, a hut sat apart from the others of the village, larger and more stoutly built. Kanda recognized the symbol etched on the doorway. A medic hut.

The man who had informed the platoon about Rebecca stepped forward and rapped his fist against the wooden doorframe. "Rebecca," he said. "You have visitors." Kanda heard noises from inside, shuffling sounds like things being pushed out of the way, and then the door opened and a young girl stuck her head out.

"Yes?" She was short and slim, with pale skin and dark brown hair. When she saw Kanda her eyes popped open and she rushed forward. "Oh! You're so dehydrated—dear _God_. You have to drink something right now!" She made to grab for Kanda's forearm but he jerked out of her reach. The girl seemed to falter for a moment before schooling her features into an authoritative glare. "_Now_. Get inside before you pass out on the doorstep. Everyone else,"—she looked over Kanda's shoulder towards the rest of the villagers—"I appreciate you bringing this man here, I can take care of him from here."

As she dismissed the villagers, who all cheered _Goodbye!_ to her in an almost reverent manner, she caught sight of the ragged platoon behind Kanda and gasped. "You're all wounded!" She glanced back towards Kanda, frowning. "You too! What happened out there? Okay, everyone inside," she said, gesturing to the exorcists. Kanda curled his lip in a particularly passionate scowl. This girl was bossy. And _short._

Kanda stepped inside the hut, only because Lavi, Marie, Lucas, Krory, and Bookman were all pushing in behind him, and the girl he supposed was Rebecca closed the door behind them. Without even addressing the strange assortment of men suddenly in her medic hut, the girl immediately went to a cupboard at the side of the room and withdrew a clear canister filled with some sort of pinkish liquid. She crossed back over to Kanda and held it in front of him. "Drink it."

Kanda stared at the unidentifiable fluid. The pink liquid sloshed around in the cup and coated the sides. And he was supposed to drink it?

"Hell no."

The girl flashed him another one of her glares and thrust the canister further under his chin.

"You're dangerously exsiccated. If you don't drink this, you'll die."

Kanda narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat—"

"Oh, shut up and drink it, Yuu," Lavi said. "We're all dehydrated. You especially, since you were leading ahead of us the whole time." Kanda glowered at the red-haired exorcist and snatched the canister from the girl's hand, popping the cover open with his thumb and taking a large swig. The pink liquid slid over his tongue like syrup, but it didn't taste like anything. If it was poison, he hoped it would kill him quickly.

Kanda forced himself to take a few more gulps before handing the canister back to the girl, a sour expression on his face. He glared at her. _Satisfied? _

The girl nodded to herself self-assuredly and passed the canister to Lucas, directing him to take a few sips and then hand it around to the rest of the platoon. Kanda scowled at the tiny girl, who was obviously a few years younger than him, yet bossing all of them around. Even in the middle of nowhere, Kanda thought, there were pushy chicks.

The rest of the platoon was passing around the syrup-filled canister and taking tentative sips while the girl gestured to a chair so she could inspect a gash on his thigh. Kanda sat. Whatever the pink stuff was, he could already feel it working, his headache ebbing away and replaced with a clear-minded sensation.

"So what happened to all of you? You're all exorcists, right?" The girl peeled back the torn and bloodied cloth from his leg and grimaced. "You'll need stitches for that..."

"Are you Rebecca?" Kanda asked. The girl looked surprised and nodded. "Then where is the Heart?"

"The heart?" Now she looked confused. She glanced over at the now almost-empty canister and then at his leg. "You've lost a lot of blood. Keep your leg elevated. I can stitch you up as soon as you're completely rehydrated—"

"I don't need stitches. Where is the Heart?" She gave him a _Are you sure you aren't insane?_ kind of look. Kanda sighed, exasperated. "It's an Innocence fragment. Small and green-glowing. The villagers said you had it." Recognition spread across the girl's face.

"Oh, that? Is that why the Dark Order sent you?" She sat back on her knees at looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't work with anyone else but me."

"Where is it?"

With a sigh the girl stood up and crossed the room again, digging around in a drawer this time. After rustling around inside, she dug out a small key and went over to a box sitting on the table to unlock it. She reached inside and palmed its only content in her hand.

"Sorry. Like I said, only I can use it, but if the Order wants me to go there so I can use it for them..."

And sitting there in her palm was a glowing, green Innocence fragment.

* * *

"Wait, so you can heal things with your Innocence?"

Lavi was firing question after question at Rebecca, an avid grin on his face. Bookman snorted at his apprentice's eagerness, but everyone could tell he was just as intent on the small medic girl, who was now cleaning her hands of some medicinal balm she had rubbed over one of Lucas's bruises.

After the initial shock at seeing that the girl actually, legitimately had an Innocence fragment—one that was supposedly the _Heart—_died down, Rebecca had set about doing the task of healing the exorcists of all of their injuries.

She had held the Innocence fragment in her palm and lightly ran it over their deepest wounds. The exorcists watched incredulously as various cuts and gashes disappeared in the fragment's wake, leaving behind perfect, unscarred skin. The process seemed to tire her out a lot, so she only healed the most serious injuries and then treated the rest with the medicines and herbs stored in her hut.

Still, the prospect of an Innocence that actually _healed_, instead of one that was built to attack or merely have a destructive effect on demons was monumental. Miranda's Innocence could create a Timescape that temporarily regenerated objects within a certain radius, but Rebecca's Innocence seemed to be able to heal anything it touched—permanently. While the fragment exhausted her for now, if the Dark Order outfitted her with the Innocence in proper equipment weapon-form, Rebecca could become an invaluable asset.

"Well, not exactly heal things..." Rebecca said.

"But you _did _just heal us," Lavi said. "Or regenerate or whatever."

All of the exorcists were lounging in the hut, finally relaxing after over twenty-four hours of constant, stress-driven movement. Lavi was sitting backwards on a chair, resting his forearms and chin on the back of the seat as he talked with the supposed carrier of the Heart. Bookman was standing a little off to the side, arms crossed, no doubt cataloging history in his mind as he listened to the conversation.

Kanda was sitting on a couch with his leg propped up on an upturned basket. Lucas sat beside him, careful not to sit _too _close to the notoriously cranky exorcist, while Krory squatted down on a stool. Marie, as usual, was leaning against the wall. His eyes were closed, but Kanda knew that he would be listening to every word of the conversation, carefully dissecting the girl's pitch and tone to make sure she wasn't lying.

"With my Innocence..." she stumbled around the word. She still seemed pretty unused to the notion of demons and Innocence and everything. "I mean, I don't _heal _exactly. It's more like...I can create." Lavi's eyebrows raised in question. Rebecca fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable with so many intent stares on her. "I do use the—_my_ Innocence for healing, but what it actually does is it can create. Create anything."

Kanda spoke up. "What do you mean you can _create_?"

"I don't know! Just...When I heal, I think of that person's arm or leg being perfect again. I create the flesh and it replaces the damaged stuff. But it doesn't have to just be skin. I can think of anything and the Innocence just creates it."

The room went quiet. Lavi's expression had gone from excited to shocked, and the atmosphere in the room turned wary. Did this girl realize what she was saying?

"Show us," Lavi said, serious for a change. Rebecca started to stutter and protest; it had been so long since she last tried, and she'd only 'created' once. Lavi didn't reassure her. This was no small matter. "An apple," he said quickly. "Create an apple."

Rebecca pressed her lips together and gripped the fragment again, so tightly the exorcists were afraid she might shatter it. But of course she couldn't—she was no Noah—and once again the fragment began to glow. She held her hand, palm facing out with the Innocence held in place by her thumb, towards the table, brows furrowed in concentration. And then the air over the table began to shimmer.

Kanda hadn't known what he expected. Maybe a spontaneous, one-moment-nothing, next-moment-there kind of appearance, or even a complete failure to summon anything at all. But sure enough, particle by particle, an apple was manifesting.

At first it didn't look like much, but then they all saw the distinct outline of seeds take shape, and after a second one of them burst and a stem shot out, growing at an unnatural speed. A core started to form, followed by the pale juicy flesh, and then finally skin the color of crimson encased the fist-sized fruit. The apple settled onto the tabletop with tiny thud and Rebecca panted triumphantly. The exorcists stared.

Creation. She had just done pure, at-will manifestation, with no cost other than mild fatigue. Could she create artillery? Weapons? Humans? Even more Innocence?

Could she create things that didn't even exist?

If this girl was telling the truth—and from the look of awe on Marie's face that all of them shared, she was—then this girl could actually be in possession of _the_ Heart. The Innocence fragment that would decide the thousand-year war with the Millennium Earl. The one the Order had been searching for since the beginning of time.

"You need to come with us." Kanda stood. Rebecca made a sound of protest in her throat at seeing him putting weight on his newly-healed leg, but then became more concerned with what he was saying.

"The Order wants me to come _ther_e? Why?"

"Because you might be the Heart."

"_Might_ be. That doesn't mean I am!"

"Even if you aren't, you still need to go to the Order since an Innocence fragment has adapted to you," Lavi said. Everyone nodded, agreeing.

"And we need to go. Right now." Kanda grabbed his sword from beside him and moved towards her. Rebecca shrank back. She didn't think he would actually hurt her or anything, but he was still pretty scary.

"Why right now?" she asked. "Can't you just take the Innocence with you?" It would be hard for her to let the fragment go; even if it was extremely tiring, it had helped save the lives of many of the villagers. But if it was that or leaving the village altogether...

"No. You've already adapted to the fragment. You need to come to the Order with us now."

"But _why?_ You think you can just abduct me? Take me away from my people? They'll never let you. I'd like to see you _try_—"

And then Kanda was right in front of her with a bruising grip on her wrist. "_Goddammit_, you're annoying. You want to know why? There are demons closing in on this village, following us. There are _thousands_, do you understand? _Thousands_ of Level Twos, Threes, Fours. _One _Level Four demon can kill a platoon of exorcists."

"Then how did all of _you_ survive?"

_Because of Allen Walker_, Kanda thought._ And that goddamn mist._

"We got lucky," he said. His voice must have had an ominous quality to it because she stopped fighting him, glancing at his healed leg, the tiny cuts and bruises, the fatigue that showed under everyone's eyes, no doubt realizing indeed how lucky they had been. At the cowed expression on the girl's face he sobered up a little. He released her wrist.

"Let's go." He turned and the exorcists all got up, coming to get ready to escort the girl back to Main Headquarters. "Whether you're the Heart or not, the demons believe you are. They got held up last night with luck and distraction, but they could easily be here by nightfall. We have to get you out of here and back to the Order as soon as—" Rebecca suddenly attacked him, aiming furious jabs at his back.

Kanda whirled, and deflected a slap to his face. "_Fuck_. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Rebecca battered at his chest with her fists as Kanda tried to get a hold of her wrists to subdue her. "You _led _the demons here! All of those horrible things are coming here and you _led them right here! _I won't go with you. I won't abandon my village."

All of the exorcists looked nervous now. Kanda looked furious. Exorcists didn't _force_ regular humans to do anything as a general rule—after all, that's who they were meant to serve. But they were ordered to get this girl to the Order by any means necessary so that the Earl never got his hands on the Heart. Because if he did, it would be the end of the human race as they knew it. They understood the stakes, they understood that one girl's wishes was not enough to weigh in over the entire human populace.

Kanda looked ready to say 'fuck it' to decorum and throw the girl over his shoulder and _carry her_ to the Order if he had to. A sentiment both Bookman and Marie seemed to share, giving each other grim nods. Lavi still tried to coerce some sort of agreement out of the stubborn girl. He didn't like forcing girls to do anything. "Rebecca—" But she cut him off, near hysterical. All of the men looked reluctant to subdue her, but if it had to be done...

"What if the demons went away?" They all looked up at Krory in surprise. It was the first he'd spoken in quite awhile. Kanda had to admit that, as strange as he was, it was easy to forget Krory was even there.

Rebecca looked wary, but at least she had stopped trying to hit him. "What do you mean if they went away?"

"This number of demons, it's clearly an army. An army bent on finding and destroying the Heart before we can secure it in Hevlaska," Krory said, eerily reasonable. "This many demons, however, are destructive and powerful, yes, but they can't stay long this way. Soon they will start fighting amongst themselves, evolving and merging. They'll turn into demon giants—tough, but not impossible to defeat. If you can stay hidden for long enough, the army will collapse, and it will take awhile for the Earl to summon that many demons to march here again."

"So you're suggesting that we stay here and protect her until the army collapses?" Marie nodded to himself. "Not bad."

"Hot damn, Kuro-chan. Didn't think you had it in you." Lavi said, slapping him on the back. And with that, the tension in the room dissolved. Rebecca looked a lot calmer, even relieved. She asked a few more questions to reaffirm that she wouldn't be dragged from Osceol against her will, but for the most part she was mollified.

Lavi, Marie, and Bookman began to shape a general plan around Krory's suggestion. Someone would stay with Rebecca as often as possible—most likely Krory, since she seemed to see him as some sort of savior, and the rest of the exorcists would patrol the surroundings. Half of the platoon would watch the area outside of the village, and the other half would make rounds within the village, rotating every once in awhile.

"We can communicate through the radios—when are we getting those again?" Lavi looked to Kanda questioningly.

"In the morning. The Order said they'd send some over if it took us longer than a day." Which, Lavi thought, was to be expected. How could they have possibly traveled to the Tulac Plains and back within twenty-four hours? The Order really needed to build some train tracks out here or something. It was a damn irritating inconvenience that golems didn't work in the area, but he would settle for the communicators the Order was sending in via carrier-bird.

"Okay then, it's settled. I'll go out and take the first patrol. Err...if that's okay with you, Yuu," Lavi said, suddenly realizing that they had just decided everything without confirming it with their platoon leader. Kanda only scoffed, however, and said, "Fine." It was a better idea than whatever he would come up with—probably a mad dash back to the Order in the middle of the night that would get them all killed.

Waiting for the demon army to destroy itself was certainly a better idea, but Kanda couldn't help but feel a swirl of unease low in his gut, like by the end of this mission, no matter the outcome, none of them would be cheering triumphantly.

...

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you, as always, for reading. I'm having a little trouble with ending this story. I know how I want it to end, but I can't seem to figure out how to get to that point in a way that's realistic and interesting. But don't worry, the ending _will_ be badass. And this story is a year old! Happy belated Bday to EM!

Please review. And critique. And thank you to all of those wonderful people who do review—I walk around with a stupid grin on my face every time I read one. Oh, and just in case you didn't know:

_Lodare Dio _- Praise the lord (Italian)

_Merci, merci, merci _- Thank you, thank you, thank you (French)

[P.S. Sorry if Kanda is in any way OOC.]


	19. Chapter 19

Kanda dunked his head into the small, water-filled barrel, submerging himself to the neck. The cool water lapped at his skin, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, for another moment before snapping his head back, an impressive arc of water and black hair flung over and behind him.

Water poured down his face, soaking the collar of his uniform, but he didn't mind the feeling. He tied his hair back without wringing it out and it slapped against his back and stuck there like a tentacle. It had been awhile since he'd had a chance to wash his face, and it was a way to stay awake in the absence of caffeine. He glanced up at the moon for what had to be the millionth time that night and guessed that it would only be a few more hours until dawn. Then Marie and Lavi would come to relieve him and take watch outside the village until noon.

It was all horribly militaristic, Kanda thought contemptuously. Exorcists were no foot soldiers, even if they _were_ capable, and acting as watch dogs was even worse. But even Kanda had to admit that they were patrolling the village with good reason, guarding the Heart Innocence against tens of thousands of demons who could show up at any time.

The corner of his mouth twitched, wanting to curl into a full-on scowl but too exhausted to do so. Was the girl _really_ the Heart?

She certainly had an unusual Innocence, and even though it wasn't in a convenient equipment-type form, she could wield it as well as any Beginner exorcist. Unfortunately, now she seemed to grasp that she held some great power in her hands, and though she didn't act pompous and arrogant, the girl did seem to think she could protect herself just fine.

Kanda tried telling her that any Level Three, hell, even a Level Two or One could tear the shit out of a rookie like her, and damn it _she wasn't even an exorcist_, but she refused to listen. Rebecca seemed convinced that they only cared about the Innocence, and wouldn't blink an eye if her village was destroyed as long as it was safe (which was true, to some degree, but she _had _to see the odds at stake—or so Lavi reasoned). But no matter what they said Rebecca planted her feet in the ground and vowed that she wouldn't leave the village until the demon army was destroyed. She said it adamantly (annoying) and politely (even more annoying). Her declaration to defend the village drew a snort from Kanda, and something about her bearing the weight of responsibility on her too-young shoulders, willingly no less, reminded him of Allen.

"Shit." Kanda swore quietly. He was _not_ worried about the bean sprout. Inwardly he knew that Allen must have been successful with his delay, given that no demons had tracked them down that night or this one, but he had no delusions that the army was completely defeated. Even _moyashi _wasn't that powerful.

Still, at the edge of his mind he couldn't help but imagine that Allen had somehow obliterated the entire demon force in some dramatic, suicidal explosion of power. It was definitely something the little martyr would do to ensure the Heart was safe. But it couldn't be true. Even Generals would struggle with that amount of demons, and Allen had faced them alone. In all likelihood he was probably dead.

And for some reason, that bothered him. It shouldn't have; the bean sprout was a traitor, a _Noah_.

Kanda considered dunking his head again.

Glancing up at the moon again, he noticed that the little mist that had gathered was starting to dissipate, the sky lightening in the east. Kanda realized that sooner or later the platoon would have to face the demons, and more than likely a few Noah too. A tingle ran through his body as he remembered the big, hulking Noah that he'd fought in the Arc, the one who near paralyzed him to death with all the electricity he shot through him. Kanda had needed to go up to Third Illusion to defeat him—and that was just one Noah. The exorcists were at a disadvantage. All of them could very well die on this mission.

_That _should have bothered him, but it didn't. Kanda clenched his hand around the sheathed hilt of Mugen. Because either way, this mission could be their last. They may die, but they could also _win_. Win the whole goddamn war that had killed thousands, tormented even more, destroyed Order bases. The one that had ripped the legs off of Lenalee and stolen Allen Walker. He could end the war that had turned him into a Second Exorcist.

A caw sounded above his head and Kanda's gaze snapped up, sword out in a flash. But it was only a bird, outfitted with a little strap and a miniature Dark Order crest. It flew down and started flapping its three foot wings in his face and coming at his arms with deadly talons. Kanda thrashed his arms wildly at the obviously _fucking insane _bird, thinking that Komui _would_ send the only rabid carrier-bird to him on the most important mission in the Order's existence, and then realized—once the bird caught hold of one of his sleeves—that it was just trying to land on his arm. He sneered—the fucker would probably poop on him now—and held his arm steady as he unstrapped the case that was attached to the bird.

He retrieved the tiny black box, emblazoned with the ever-present Order crest, and snapped the case back onto the bird, who nipped at his fingers like it wanted a goddamn treat. Kanda flipped the bird off (and it promptly bit his middle finger) before flinging his arm up in the standard take-off motion.

Once the little monster was out of sight, Kanda broke the seal on the black box and opened it. Inside where ten sets of earring radios—the standard number—and one radio with a slightly different design for the platoon leader. Finally, they would be able to communicate. Kanda was just about to slide his into his ear when he heard footsteps approaching.

In the Tulac Plains, you could pretty much hear if someone was coming from miles away, but these footsteps were especially quiet. Careful. Kanda would have assumed that it was Lavi and Marie coming to relieve him, since the sun was starting to come up, except that the _baka usagi _would probably be stomping his way over here, not creeping, and the footsteps were coming from the wrong direction. Mugen flashed in front of him as he set his stance. Kanda was fully awake and ready to destroy anything that came at him. All that was left was for the intruder to come to him.

It was still hard to see very far, even though the mist was rising, and Kanda could only make out maybe twenty yards ahead of him, but it would be enough. The footsteps were coming closer, quicker now. Running, even. Perhaps the person had realized they'd been discovered. Any moment now someone would break through the mist, and Kanda would take four flying strides and thrust his sword forward into—

Allen Walker came flying out of the mist.

At first Kanda wondered if the demons were chasing him, and that was how he had delayed them—by running all over Osceol and leading the demons behind him—and geared up to scream at him for leading the demons _here_. But as soon as Allen saw him he careened to a stop, panting harshly and resting his hands on his knees. After a few seconds of catching his breath, Allen looked up and smiled at him—his old huge, cheery grin—and said, "I found you."

It was a lot to take in; first the homicidal bird and now an exorcist-turned-traitor-turned-never _actually _a traitor Allen Walker, and Kanda didn't bother trying to hide his I-can't-believe-you're-not-dead face. In the dim light, all Kanda could really make out was the brat's stupidly bright white hair, his dark skin and clothes fading in with the background, so if he unfocused his eyes a little it looked like a white mop floating above the ground.

Kanda realized his mouth was coming dangerously close to gaping, so he shut it with an audible click of teeth, and then opened it again to say _What the hell did you think you were doing? _except he realized that that question could apply to many things concerning Allen Walker.

"You know, Kanda, if you concentrate _really _hard you can use this thing called a _brain. _It helps you turn your _thoughts _into audible speech. Amazing, hmm?"

On second thought, Kanda hoped that the motherfucker would get torn in two by a Level Four.

"You're awfully peachy for someone who betrayed his organization, _moyashi_," he said, hissing the brat's nickname.

Okay, maybe that was taking it a step too far. Instead of hissing back _It's Allen, Ba-Kanda! _like he'd thought he would, the bean sprout just pressed his lips together and then hung his head. Kanda wanted to bludgeon him with a dull rock. Damn it, he didn't think the brat would get _depressed_. God. He was supposed to be the never-fucking-ending flow of optimism.

"Oi," Kanda said, voice gruff but soft. "Wake the hell up, _moyashi_. This isn't your pity party."

For a long moment Allen didn't respond. Although, for once the silence between them was peaceful—understanding, even—not like their usual pauses where they gave each other death glares so strong the sparks and flames were practically visible.

Kanda stared at the floating mop of white hair, waiting, until finally the brat raised his head and shot Kanda a level glare. The yellow eyes were nothing Kanda was used to, but the determination in them was familiar, as were the irritatingly snarky (or snarkily irritating) words that followed.

"It's _Allen_, Ba-Kanda."

* * *

"So you succeeded in delaying the demons," Kanda said, only half a question in his voice. They stood only a few feet apart now, Kanda leaning against the water barrel. Obviously Allen had done _something _to keep the demons from attacking the past two nights, Kanda thought. Whether it was leading them in the wrong direction or blowing them up, he didn't know.

"Yeah," Allen said, and didn't offer any more information. Kanda frowned.

"Is there still an army?"

Allen looked a little surprised and then mumbled another _Yeah_. "But you should be safe for another couple of days," he added, staring at his hands a little blankly, as if in deep thought. Kanda didn't wonder what he meant by that, and after a second Allen's gaze snapped up and he asked, "What about the Heart?"

Kanda proceeded to fill him in about the mission he'd received from Komui, about Rebecca and her Innocence and their plan to wait out the demons until they could get her to the Order. "There are a bunch of holes in it," Kanda said, referring to the plan. "But without any more information, there's not much we can do about it."

Allen nodded to himself. The demons wouldn't attack the village for awhile, at least while his deal held up, but they definitely wouldn't be destroying themselves or morphing together anytime soon. Any normal mass of demons would, but with a Noah in charge every single Level Four to Level One would be tightly leashed and completely under command. No, the exorcists couldn't wait. They would have to move the girl with the Heart out and to the Order within the week. But how would that bode with the village? And how could they get the girl to come willingly?

"We'll have to tell her tomorrow, or today actually," Allen said, looking up at the lightening sky. Surely Rebecca would listen to reason. In all likeliness the demons would never attack the village with such like-minded force, and certainly not in a big army. As long as the demons were all together, a Noah would be there to control them, and their goal would ultimately be to destroy the Heart—not pillage some settlement in the middle of nowhere. Rebecca actually being there put it at risk for attack. If she were taken away, attention would be shifted away from the Tulac Plains, and even if a few demon stragglers came upon the village, they could always post an exorcist or two, maybe a Finder team, just to ensure that it would stay safe. For Rebecca's sake. Allen told this to Kanda, who nodded in agreement.

"Here, take this." Kanda tossed a metal stud through the air and Allen caught it in both his palms, afraid of dropping it.

It was an earring. Or rather, a communicator-earring. Allen reached up to his unadorned left ear, surprised that he'd forgotten it was even pierced. He hadn't worn anything in it since he was first taken from the Dark Order, when his old one was undoubtedly tossed along with all of his exorcist gear. It had been so long since that first day when he woke up in chains, homesick and still-human—how could so many things have gone wrong?

Regret rose up so fast in him he thought he might puke, but he swallowed his emotions and lowered his eyes so that Kanda wouldn't see the wetness in them. His choked voice gave him away though.

"Thank you," he croaked. Kanda sniffed dismissively and looked away, giving him a moment to recover. Allen undid the clasp on the communicator and slid it through the piercing in his ear. It was heavier than he remembered, in a comforting way, hugging his earlobe like a faithful companion. This communicator was different than the dangling one he'd had before, the thick band much more convenient than a spindly, swinging earring that could get caught on something or ripped out. With it, he had a direct connection to the platoon leader at all times, could receive any transmission from a golem within a five mile vicinity, and had the ability to send and receive messages to any teammate on that frequency.

"It would've been better if we'd had them when we were in that goddamn mist," Kanda scowled, putting his in. Allen thumbed his earring to the correct frequency. The device crackled to life in his ear and he gave a small cringe at the noise, adjusting the volume.

"So should we go in and tell Rebecca? Update the platoon on what's going on?"

Kanda paused and didn't say anything for a moment. Then he gave an uninspiring grunt and didn't meet his eyes. Allen frowned, confused for a moment, before realizing what the problem must have been.

"You...don't want the platoon to see me?" he asked, just to check.

"The Dark Order isn't exactly happy with you right now," Kanda said vaguely, not wanting to tell him that the organization he'd dedicated his life to had recently declared him _Kill on Sight_.

Allen understood. That exorcist Lucas had already expressed his drive to kill him, the Noah. Who knew what Lavi and the others would do if they saw him. He understood perfectly, and gave Kanda a tiny smile to show he did. The dark haired exorcist almost flinched—_Was his smile that strained?—_before turning to close the case of communicators, making a sound almost like a scoff deep in his throat.

"Just stay out of sight, _moyashi_. We're patrolling the perimeter of the village, the grounds inside, and we have one person near Rebecca at all times. If you patrol the surrounding area, you'd be the first to know if any demons were getting closer. And as long as you're in a ten mile radius of the village, you can notify me if they're coming."

"And you'll tell her?" Allen asked, referring to the Heart-carrier. Kanda nodded.

"This mission should be done in half a week tops. I want to move out in two days, or sooner even. The longer we're out here, the greater the Heart is at risk." Kanda stood from his slouch against the barrel. "Lavi and Marie will be coming to relieve me soon. Get out of here_—_and communicate through the radio if something happens."

Allen ducked his head once. "Thanks, Kanda."

"Che."

A tiny smirk curving his lips, Allen resisted the urge to give him a mock-salute, and then started back into the rapidly dissipating mist.

He didn't know how he would go about reuniting with the platoon once the mission was over, or how his relationship with the Order would fare. He didn't know if there would even be an Order if they found the Heart. Would they still need Finders? Exorcists?

Everything was changing. The only sure thing was that everything was unsure. Allen honestly didn't know what awaited him in the future, his only path so tangled with misjudgments and darkened by doubts that he hardly knew his way anymore.

But Allen had to trust in what he was doing. He had to believe in his friends and protect the Heart Innocence, the one thing that could win the war with the Millennium Earl. Because even though the future was unsure and the past made him want to wither away in shame and lament his losses, he would still fight. And he had Kanda to thank. Because the Japanese exorcist had assured him, in as few and as hostile words as possible, that everything was going to be alright.

...

* * *

**A/N: **Pretty short chapter, I know, but I wanted to update as soon as possible to make up for all the long months of waiting you guys had to endure throughout the postings of these_—holycrap__—_nineteen chapters. I hope you enjoyed! I'm guessing...probably two to three more chapters, and then the epilogue. Thank you all so much for reading, and make sure you drop a review. I'm spoiled, too_ (_got used to more than ten reviews per chapter), so the more the merrier! _  
_


	20. Chapter 20

_One-hundred and twenty-nine. One-hundred and thirty. One-hundred and thirty-one._

Sweat. Grass itching under his palms. Dry lips. He scrunched his nose in an effort to dislodge a lock of hair that had stuck to his sweaty forehead, in his eyes.

The muscles in his chest and shoulders strained with every push against the ground. Sweat glided slowly down the sides of his face and dripped from the tip of his nose. Allen paused, panting slightly, and loosened the tie around his throat before resuming his push-ups.  
The sun was almost directly overhead, and with his darker skin Allen was beginning to feel the heat. He reached a count of two-hundred push-ups. Pausing for a moment, he sucked in a few harsh breaths and shed his jacket and button-up shirt. He then kicked his legs up into a handstand and then did standing push-ups, bending one arm behind his back after a second of getting his balance.

_One_. _Two. Three._ _Four_—

He was in the middle of nowhere, in the Plains. Well, actually he was exactly ten miles from the village, but there was absolutely nothing in the landscape to mark any stretch of distance, and last night's mist still lurked, obscuring, on the horizon. He was in a grassy desert, cut off from golem communication and modern modes of transportation.

_Figures the Heart would be in a place like this._

Elbow bent, he heaved his weight up and down, up and down. Kanda had said that the other exorcists would be patrolling in and around the village, venturing out as far as it stayed in sight, a few miles perhaps. If he wanted to stay out of sight, he would need to move even further out from the general sphere of the village, but not so far that he was out of signal range. Communication was pivotal, and the earring Kanda had given him could transmit at the most across ten miles with no interference. Allen knew he was stretching it thin, but he wanted to be sure that if _anything _was headed towards the village he would be the first to know.

_But nothing should be headed towards the village. You made sure of that_—

"—Oof!" Allen's chest bore the brunt of the impact as his hand spasmed and he lost his balance. Down came his legs, knees hitting the ground with a jarring thud. His chin knocked against the ground, making his teeth click. He sprawled, groaning, in the grass. Above him the sky was blue and cloudless. The sun was directly overhead. Allen used a hand to shield his eyes against the sun, the right one, the one that had failed him.

He squinted up at the dark skin.

A dark flower was inked across the surface of his palm, the color of curdled blood. His contract...

He shivered, despite the burn of noon-high and heat of exercise.

_"How about we make a deal, Allen?"_

Intense guilt filled him, stirring awfully with anxiety. He had a feeling that he had made a very big mistake, and that many lives was its penalty.

He had, he was sure, made a deal with the devil.

* * *

**—_A Deal with Road_—**

A night filled with demons. A rapidly dissipating mist.

A climactic showdown.

A penultimate deal.

"I will take these demons away from here, I will distract the Noah, I will make sure that you complete your mission and save the Heart. _If_ you swear, under oath of whatever God or creed you serve, that you will never kill a Noah Clansman again."

Allen's eyes narrowed, shrewd. "Kill, as in destroy...?"

Road smiled. "You will never use the sword of exorcism on a Noah again."

_Never _again? He realized that he couldn't exactly use his Innocence at all right now, let alone the invaluable sword of exorcism—the strongest form of Crown Clown. But he had figured that he would regain his white form and all his exorcist powers at _some_ point. To seal away his deadliest asset for fighting against Noah...

He began to protest. "That's—"

She cut him off. "Do we have a deal?"

He looked at her for a long while. Her earlier levity was gone, replaced by that frighteningly perceptive yellow gaze. For all her unpredictability when she was in one of her jolly, killing moods, Allen had learned Road was most dangerous when she was like this-quiet and patient, completely lacking the oh-so-human trait of anxiety and haste. Road was, what, over one-thousand years old? At least.

He had to wonder at how many years Road had been in a situation mirroring this one: advancing, surrounding, and cornering her prey until at last she proposed a deal. A deal which one would be truly idiotic to believe would in no way benefit her. Allen mulled over this fact. He was in the middle of sorting through his thoughts when his mouth moved on its own, vocal chords working and lips uttering a word, an answer, which perhaps stunned him more than it did Road in its simplicity.

"Yes."

It would not be until much later on that Allen would wonder why he hadn't spent more time questioning her words, taking into account exactly how weighty the decision he was making was. She smiled at his answer, long and slow. With a tiny kick to her flying perch (and an irritable shriek from Lero), she drifted closer and bent towards him. Road stuck out her hand.

It occurred to him that a handshake wasn't exactly the most reliable way to ensure Road's loyalty, but he was so tired of fighting. He extended his hand upward and looked into Road's eyes.

They were clear and untroubled, resoundingly indigo. He reached through the night air. When the pads of their fingers brushed, he couldn't help but flinch. She was warm. Like a human, just like he was. Road lifted her brow slightly and her fingertips slid down his, hand curving around his own, his fingers wrapped around her palm. Her fingers were so dainty, with black, rounded-off nails, and bare of any scars or blemishes. Their thumbs gently locked, palms touching.

Allen looked up into Road's eyes again. She met his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile. And then she pressed forward slightly, gripped his hand in a tight grasp, and squeezed both of their hands until their palms were flush against each other.

"_Ow!" _

He hissed. Something had just _stabbed_ his hand. He tried to pull away, but Road held on, her grip surprisingly strong. Allen struggled uncomfortably—God, it _stung_—but just as he was about to forcefully shove her away, Road let go.

He wrenched his arm away. "What the hell was that?"

Road gave him a sad smile. "To make you trust me."

_Trust _her? Allen gave her an incredulous look, but before he could say anything Road gestured to his hand. He looked at his palm.

A shape was blooming in the center of his hand, dark, like blood, but under the skin. It spread like ink, growing larger and larger, and eventually a shape was discernible.

It was a star. Or a flower, with five wavy petals, blooming, taking over his whole palm.

"What is this?"

"A mark of loyalty. It binds me to my deal, and you to yours. Just say your name and it's sealed."

"...'Allen'?" He felt no change in his palm, but Road looked satisfied and leaned back on her perch. He flexed his hand experimentally, but his dexterity seemed unaltered and the pain was already receding. _Just a pinch. A sting._

He looked at the flower on his hand suspiciously, and then back up at Road, but she was already ascending rapidly on Lero. Kicking her feet and calling in a loud, bored voice, Road shouted "Alright, let's go! Everyone up!"

The demons around them came to life. Allen felt panic rise up in him briefly; he'd completely forgotten about them. But the demons ignored him, rising and following Road without complaint.

As they began to move—west, in the opposite direction they had been traveling—as promised, Road looked over her shoulder and caught his gaze. The tiny figure in the sky gave him an exaggerated salute. A bubble of laughter escaped his lips and he found himself saluting back.

And caught sight of the dark floral pattern on his palm.

He stared at the unidentified flower, noticed that its deep hue was the exact shade as Road's hair at the nape of her neck, and thought:

_What have I done?_

* * *

Road had to keep her end of the deal. She _had _to. But what was stopping her from simply going back on her word?

_"A mark of loyalty. It binds me to my deal, and you to yours. Just say your name and it's sealed."_

A mark of loyalty. Or a sham.

The dark flower on his hand could be any Dark Matter-hocus pocus, requiring he only speak his name. Hell, Road could have just thrown the name-stating in there for kicks, and he was none the wiser. Whatever the case, he now had a magical Dark Matter tattoo that could be anything from a ticking time bomb to just an ethical illusion to keep him from exorcising a Noah. He knew nothing.

Even though Road herself had trained him in the art and science of Dark Matter, he had only been her student for a few weeks. Or had it been mere days?  
Every day in the beginning—when he had first been taken and converted—had felt like an eternity. No sun, no clock. Nothing but swirling alter-dimensions filled with demons and Noah. He could have spent years in the House of the Earl and wouldn't have known otherwise if not for the War.

_Lena_—

_Shut up_, he told himself. She's dead. Whoever you blame, yourself, or Road, or the Level Four, or the fall from thousands of feet in the air, her long, Innocenced legs brutally severed at the hips—

She was dead.

End of story.

Allen drew his eyes away from his hands, and then steadied himself once more before kicking up into a handstand.

It didn't matter if Road was telling the truth.

_"And what makes you think I would ever trust you?"_

Even if Road had taken the demons away and hidden them a stone's throw from the village, all he had to do was keep delaying them until they got Rebecca and her Innocence safely to the nearest Order outpost, or until the army collapsed. He could do that.

_"Don't you?_"

Allen resumed his count, heaving up against the ground and lifting his body weight with just the pads of his fingers. Purely focusing on the exercise, his mental guard began to drop, welcoming the Fourteenth to surface—which he did, coming first as a headache and then fading again as Allen's irritation spiked. He barely noticed his inner resident anymore, his mind wonderfully peaceful, and damn if he was going to go back to searing headaches every day just as a reminder. He saw the charcoal of his skin often enough.

Still, Allen opened his mind once more, allowing the Fourteenth to rise. It would do no good to over-suppress his Noah. All that would do would make him lose control during some explosion of emotion, like he had during the war or as Tyki had in the Arc.

_'You will not lose control.'_

Allen's balance slipped and he almost crumpled to the ground _again_. His head was pounding, not altogether unpleasantly, but way too strange for his liking. He put a hand to his forehead; his mind was _vibrating._

_'We are stronger than that.'_ the voice continued.

His ears filled with a strange non-noise, like a void in his hearing. Tingling, dizzying, like all the blood was rushing to his head.

_'We are much stronger than the rest of the Clan. We will wrest control of the Arc entirely.'_

He had never had a _vocal_ connection to the Fourteenth, or mental, or whatever. Just sort of a mutual understanding of each other's feelings, impulses, and then after awhile, the slow domination of Allen's own over the Fourteenth's. He had feared that he was over-suppressing his Noah, but somehow the Fourteenth's voice was stronger than ever, no longer saying monotonously, mantrically, helplessly over and over: _Allen, Allen. _

No. Now he was _speaking_, and Allen could understand, absorb, and react to the Fourteenth's words the moment he said them in his mind.

_'Of course.' _

Of course.

He had a moment in which he attempted to comprehend what it meant for the Fourteenth to be so dominant a presence in his mind after remaining seemingly dormant and submissive for so long when a voice crackled in his ear.

The communicator became slightly warm from usage and Allen struggled as he tried to find a clearer frequency. He might have gone too far from the village...

No, there was Kanda's voice, gritty with electricity and distance, shouting something. Was there danger? Allen strained his Noah hearing as far as he dared, knowing a too-loud radio crack could very well deafen him. But he had to hear what the exorcist was saying...

"—_damn it! Fuck, fuck, FUCK_—_"_

Well. At least he understood the other's words now. It was clear that Kanda wasn't addressing Allen specifically—unless the irascible man had developed some sort of fast-acting Tourette's—because the frequency was shared by the entire exorcist platoon. And, Allen remembered, the other exorcists weren't aware that he had a communicator and was thus privy to all plans and conversations. They also thought that he was a traitor, so he wasn't going to announce himself to any of them via communicator. Not yet anyway.

But Kanda's cursing could still mean something bad had happened, and he willed the bastard to say something of communicative value instead of every dirty word he knew.

_Come on, Ba-Kanda. Use your words. There's too much at stake here._

Finally, some words that were non-expletives. Allen had to listen for several times before he understood exactly what he was saying, and another several to believe him. For the third time, Allen struggled to keep his balance. Half-succeeded. Pondered whether this turn of events left them _screwed_, _very screwed_, or _absolutely, 100% fucked._

_"Fuck yourselves in the ass, what do you mean you can't find her? WHERE IS SHE? She said she fucking AGREED and now you're saying that you can't find Rebecca OR the Innocence, that you can't find A SINGLE FUCKING TRACE!"_

Fucked. They were absolutely, one-hundred percent fucked.

...

* * *

**A/N: **Two years. Does anyone still read this? If not, I wouldn't have posted this chapter. But even if just one person gets that giddy feeling upon seeing a new chapter, I consider it worth it. And according to the most recent reviewer, I know that there is at least one.

Not to discount all other reviews. I was just busy, and yeah, lost a bit of interest. I forgot this site. I graduated. But I still got nostalgic when I saw in my inbox that someone had reviewed, or added one of my stories on alert or their favorites list. It sparked something in me.

This past review, in all its length and impressive insight, rekindled something. I thought, "I want to get reviews like this again, every day. I want to know that people are enjoying reading something that I created, that it's providing needed escapism and excitement within day-to-day ennui. I want that again."

So I sat down and reread my whole damn story. It was kind of interesting; I'd forgotten exactly what I'd had in mind for the end of it, and had to rediscover where I was going with the plot. But I'm a fucking genius and had written down notes and entire chunks of prose for the future chapters of this story, so all I had to do was read those, edit this, edit that, and churn out this Chapter 20, and BAM! Back in the game. Sort of.

Tell me how I did? Regardless, it was a lot of fun. Stay tuned for the next update. I'm going to finish this one.


End file.
